Where the Wild Things Are
by Verity Evans
Summary: PostOotP: DG, RHr, also some HHr, HG Lord Voldemort employs the help of the Fae to get what he wants. With a Changeling left in his place, Harry is abducted by the Death Eaters. Harry's friends will have to cross many dangerous lines in order to save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:**

**For some strange reason, the program on won't let me add breaks between scenes. I've tried using very symbols, words etc, and it simply won't work. Go figure. I apologize for the confusion this may spark. Just know I'm working on a way to fix this. Till then, I'm afraid you'll just have to pick up the changes in POV on your own. Thanks for your patience!**

**Verity Evans **

Chapter 1

"Well, obviously it doesn't mean that much to you, does it, Ron?"

"No! It doesn't! Why should it, Hermione? It's just a stupid test!"

"It's _not_ just a test, it's important! It could affect the rest of our _careers_!"

"Well, fine, if it's so important to you then go study by yourself!"

"Fine, I will!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Thus had been the drama for the past two months. Harry sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to focus on the words in front of him. Hermione and Ron had always squabbled, but recently it had become the unrelenting norm. Last night Ginny had said that one day the fight would end with Hermione either kissing Ron or smacking him clear across the room, and it was anyone's guess which would happen first. Hermione had glared, and Ron had gone redder than his hair, and Ginny and Harry had vacated the table to go study by the common room fire where, as Ginny said, they wouldn't have to hear the raging hormones in action. It was much the same tonight. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table, bickering about Potions homework, and Harry, Ginny and Dean were sitting by the fire with their books spread out on the floor.

After a moment of quiet Ron plopped down in the armchair next to Harry, muttering something about 'bloody women…' He broke open a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and began moodily sorting through them.

"Something wrong, Ron?" Ginny asked, grinning sideways at Harry.

"No." he said sullenly, reaching for his textbook. "Harry, what have you got written for Snape's essay? Hermione won't let me copy off her."

"I should think not," said Ginny, "How are you ever going to _learn_ if you just copy off people all the time? And anyway, you're a prefect. What kind of example are you setting for the first years?"

"Oh bugger off, Gin. Who asked you?"

Harry glanced back at Hermione where she sat staring insistently at her textbook, though Harry noted that her eyes weren't moving at all. Trying not to look too guilty, he slipped Ron his parchment and turned his attention back to _A History of Dark Creatures_.

'_The British __**Fae**__, similar to the Polynesian __**Menehune**__, are dangerous and full of mischief. Also, like the Menehune, the Fae fear all owls. The owl-god, Paupueo, sends his owl servants to chase the Fae into the forests when they become too mischievous.'_

"Ginny, have you seen my Herbology textbook?" Ron asked.

"No. Did you leave it with Hermione?"

'_A common practice of the Fae's in earlier centuries was to steal muggle children and replace them with a changeling child of their own.'_

"No!" Ginny said, "Go over there and get it yourself, Ron. I'm trying to study. Snape is testing us on advanced antidotes tomorrow, and I really think he's going to poison at least one of us..."

Harry rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. It was extremely comfortable in the squashy chair in front of the warm fire, and he could feel his eyelids drooping.

'_The Fae, while not malicious by nature, can be very dangerous. In 1944 the Fae joined forces with the dark wizard Grindelwald and caused much damage to both the magical and muggle communities. They later abandoned him and his followers and joined Albus Dumbledore when the dark wizard tortured one their clan with…'_

_Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room. Everyone was gone now, and he wondered vaguely that neither Ron nor Hermione had woken him up when they went up to bed. Looking around though, he realised he was not, in fact, in the Gryffindor common room. The walls, rather than stone, were olive green, and covered in old, faded tapestries. On the far wall was a large tapestry that read "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black". Harry swallowed against the lump that was forming in his throat. He was in Sirius's drawing room. Harry turned around to survey the room, and realised with a start that he was not alone. In front of him stood two figures who were looking at him expectantly; a tall, thin, heavy-lidded woman, who Harry recognised with a jolt as Bellatrix, was kneeling on the floor. Behind her stood a slim form covered in a dark, midnight blue cloak._

'_I understand that you have the ability to Read?' came, from his own throat, a cold, high-pitched voice that Harry knew all too well._

Well now, that's odd. _Harry thought. Ever since the events in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had practiced Occlumency almost religiously, making sure to empty his mind of thought and emotion each night before sleeping. His invasions of Voldemort's consciousness became more and more infrequent, and then ceased all together. True, this past week he had been a bit lax about practicing, as studying had generally kept him up until he passed out on his books, but he hardly expected the dreams to start up again so quickly._

'_Yes, that is true,' the cloaked figure replied, and lowered her hood. A long mane of dark hair fell to her waist. Her face, half obscured by shadows and flickering firelight, was a haunting mix of age and youth. 'You have need of this ability?'_

'_I do,' Harry heard Voldemort say slowly, 'Yes, I have a need for several of your abilities. I understand your people have assisted in our cause before.'_

'_That is true…'_

'_If I recall the incident correctly, they fled to join the ranks of the adversary.' Harry could feel Voldemort's suspicion. 'If I did recruit your assistance in this venture, I would require you to give your word that such a thing would not happen again.'_

_The girl stood in silence, surveying the Dark Lord. After a long moment she let out a soft laugh. The fire flickered and a frosty breeze that smelled faintly of blood, strawberries and damp moss filled the room. _

'_You know very well the inclinations and motivations of my people,' the girl said. 'Whether or not you wish to enlist my help is your decision, but I will make you no promise of the kind.'_

_Voldemort stayed silent, staring into the fire. After several minutes, the girl smiled and put her hood back up._

'_Do what seems best to you. You know how to contact me, should you-,' she cut off abruptly and cocked her head to the side. She stared intensely at Voldemort, her eyes boring into him. Harry could feel Voldemort shift, and was surprised to realize that Voldemort was somehow unnerved by her insistent and unrelenting gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, her gaze shifted. Not from one side to another, but from outside to inside. A shiver suddenly ran down Harry's spine, and he recognised with sudden jolt of horror and panic that she could see him. Staring into Voldemort's eyes, she could see _him_, Harry, and she knew who he was. It felt as though she were looking straight through him to the wall behind, and could see everything in between. His thoughts, his feelings, his memories, his knowledge. Snape had told him once that the mind was not a book to be opened and read, but here was this stranger, reading every line, every word…_

_Harry tried to back away, but couldn't. He searched desperately for some way of escape, but how can you escape from a dream? _Wake up, _he told himself sternly. _Wake up!

'_Well now,' she whispered. Harry reluctantly met her gaze. She had pulled back somehow, and was no longer looking into him, but at him. She stared at him for several minutes, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She then looked, from Harry to Voldemort, somehow able to distinguish between them. 'Yes, that _is_ interesting…'_

_A smile crept across her lips. She raised her hand in a small, almost coy wave. 'Be seeing you…'_

_Harry felt a jolt of realisation from Voldemort, and felt as though he were being shoved violently across the room._

'_GET OUT!'_

Harry's eyes flashed open and he sat bolt upright in his chair by the fire.

"Harry?" inquired Ginny. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looked around the room, trying to shake off the feeling of extreme cold that he had awoken with. He glanced at Ron, who was staring at him, a Bertie Botts Bean halfway to his mouth.

"I don't…" Harry muttered. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, I think so."

Hermione stopped pretending to study and got up from the table.

"Harry, you don't look very well," she said, placing a hand on his forehead. "Well, you haven't got a fever. Still, perhaps you ought to go to bed."

"No," said Harry, "No we've got this Potions test tomorrow. I've got to study."

Hermione pursed her lips, looking torn between concern for Harry's health, and her reluctance to discourage studying. "Well… alright. But don't stay up too late. It won't do you any good to study all night if you're just going to faint away in the middle of the test anyway." She did not return to her table, but sat down on the floor with Ginny and Dean and opened her Ancient Runes textbook.

Ron looked questioningly at Harry. "You sure you're all right, mate?" he asked quietly. "You looked like you were dreaming…"

Harry nodded. "I was."

"About You-Know-Who?"

He nodded again.

"Was it… you know, _real_?"

Harry hesitated, thinking over the things he'd seen, and the force with which he had been ejected from Voldemort's mind. "No, I don't think so," he said finally.

"I don't know Harry," began Hermione, "Maybe you should talk to Dumbledore. You know how important your dreams can be…"

Harry thought for several minutes. He was certain it had been real, but he didn't want to start a big fuss if he were wrong, or be told that it was just a normal lapse of concentration and he should be practicing Occlumency more. And what if it wasn't real? Enough damage had been done already by his rash assumptions that what he saw in his dreams was reality. No, he would not bother the Headmaster with this. If he had more disturbing dreams about strange women meeting Voldemort, he might consider it. But for now he would try to forget what he'd seen, and continue to practice emptying his mind of thought and emotion.

"No, I don't think so," he said. Hermione looked for a moment as though she might argue, but apparently thought better of it and instead bit her lip and turned back to her textbook.

Bored, Bored, Bored. Ginny sighed and scratched out the Snitch she'd been doodling on her parchment and started a new one. A tiny feeling of guilt nagged at the back of her brain, telling her she should be taking notes, or at least _listening_ to what Professor Binns was saying. After all, she had to take her OWLs this year, she could hardly afford to zone out during class. Her words to Ron about being a good example to the first years were echoing in her head, and she fingered her own prefect badge absently. Somehow though, even with stress about her upcoming exams, she simply couldn't keep her attention focused in Binns's class. He was droning on, something about the giant wars. She glanced at the few notes she'd managed to make at the beginning of class, and decided that was good enough for today. Heck, not even Hermione could stay interested in History of Magic.

She looked instead at the blank piece of parchment sitting in front of her. It was empty, but not for long. Oozing through the page, in black ink, came words in neat handwriting.

_Hi Ginny, how's Binns today?_

Ginny smiled. Dean had bought the Cunning Correspondence Parchment at Zonko's over the summer and had given it to her for her birthday. He'd said it was "like a wizarding chat room," which had gotten a blank stare from Ginny.

"Well see, muggles have this thing called the Internet, which is a sort of world all it's own, that you access through a computer…"

"What's a computer?" she'd asked.

He'd quickly given up on trying to explain chat rooms and internets, and instead explained that they could talk to each other through the piece of parchment. It was meant to allow students to write each other notes during class without passing them back and forth or, even better, to communicate with friends in other classes.

_Hi Dean_, she wrote, _it's like the Draught of Living Death in here. How's Potions?_

_Could be worse. At least Malfoy's not here throwing eye of newt at the Gryffindor tables. I miss you though. I've been thinking about you all morning…_

Ginny smiled and dipped her quill into her inkpot, hesitating a moment before writing, _I miss you too. I have to go now though; I'll see you at lunch._ She then folded up the parchment and stuck it in her bag. She shifted in her chair; trying to rid herself of the guilty, almost dirty feeling she always got when she spoke to Dean through the parchment. She'd never told Dean, because he'd obviously bought the parchment out of affection for her, (and it had been very expensive,) but she'd never felt easy about using it. It had always felt uncomfortably like talking to Tom. Speaking to someone through paper, someone she couldn't see but who always told her things she wanted to hear.

She looked up at Binns, who was, as always, floating two inches off his chair and continuing his monotone explanation of the giant wars.

Ginny sighed and turned her chair slightly to afford a better view of the Quidditch pitch. It looked like the Slytherin team was practicing, which explained Dean's mention of Malfoy's absence. She suspected Snape had pulled some strings so that they could skive off classes in order practice before the game tomorrow, which Ginny thought was hardly fair. On the other hand, at least Dean and the others had a break from Malfoy. She thought she could make him out on the Pitch, his agility and grace distinguishing him from the other troll-like members of the team. He glided through the air, swooping and diving, as though there were nothing more natural. It was really very unfair that so much beauty should be wasted on such a poor excuse for a human being. She did sometimes wonder if maybe he was just jealous and lonely, that maybe if someone with a good heart cared for him, maybe he would be okay. He really was very attractive, when he wasn't constantly sneering. Perhaps it was that 'dangerous' element that was always so appealing…

Ginevra Weasley, she thought, you did _not_ just think that. You're going out with Dean. Who's wonderful.

She shook her head and instead devoted herself to examining the teams' flight patterns and formations, making a mental note to tell Harry what to expect in tomorrow's match. Montague had the Chasers performing an interesting scoring formation that would definitely take Ron off his guard. Crabbe and Goyle were, as usual, just flying around hitting bludgers at each other. They'd be lucky if they managed to avoid hitting their own players, let alone hit any of Gryffindors'. Malfoy was still flying around the pitch, presumably searching for the snitch. He really was a very good flyer. Though, Ginny thought, he would never be as good as Harry. God, how that must eat at him. To constantly lose to the one person you couldn't stand… Ginny thought about how it felt to be constantly compared to everyone. To her brothers, to her friends. She'd always felt just a little bit overshadowed. That must be how Draco felt…

_Draco?_ Okay, that's it. No more watching Quidditch. Stop looking at him right this instant, you should be paying attention to Binns. You have your OWLs this year; you should darn well be listening to- oh that was a good dive… Wow, those green Quidditch robes make him look really se-…

Ginny had never been quite so grateful to hear bell that tolled the end of class and the beginning of lunch.

When Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch it was apparent that Ron and Hermione had come to a silent agreement to not discuss their argument (whatever this one was about.) They were sitting opposite one another, speaking extremely politely to each other and looking very studiously at their plates.

"Ron, would you please pass me a jacket potato?" Hermione asked, staring insistently at the butter.

"Sure. Here you go."

"Thank you."

Harry grinned inwardly and sat down next to Ron. "You two stopped fighting then, have you?" he asked, trying not to sound too amused.

"Oh shut it, Harry. How do you think you did on that test?"

Harry, who had been determinedly not thinking about the Potions test he'd just taken, shrugged. "Guess I'll find out. At least I didn't melt my cauldron like poor Neville. He's still cleaning up in there."

Hermione, obviously grateful for a topic of conversation that didn't involve Ron and her, passed Harry a plate of roast beef. "You know he's improved loads this year. Getting a wand of his own has made quite a difference. Though, I don't suppose a new wand will help him much in Snape's class."

"No, it won't," said Ron, "I finally got rid of Charlie's old wand in third year, and I'm still rubbish at Potions."

"Oh, Ron, you're not _rubbish_ at Potions. If you'd only put in a little more effort-,"

"I _do_ put in effort. Just because I'm not a genius like you-,"

"I'm not a genius, Ron, I just take the time to actually _study_ the material. If you'd only-,"

Harry stopped listening at this point. Ginny had just come in and sat down between Dean and Hermione. There was a pink glow about her face, as though she'd run around the Quidditch pitch for half an hour.

"Hey Ginny," he said, turning away from Ron and Hermione. "You okay? You look flushed…"

Hermione stopped sniping at Ron and looked over at Ginny.

"I'm fine." She said quickly, looking away from Dean. "It was just warm in Binns' room." She looked over at Hermione. "Would you pass me the rolls?"

Hermione picked up the basket of rolls and handed them to Ginny. "How was History of Magic?"

Ginny shrugged. "Oh, you know. Big stone room filled with boredom and despair. How'd your test with Snape go?"

" 'Bout the same, really." Harry replied. "You sure you're all right?"

Ginny nodded, but refused to make eye contact with anyone at the table. "Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be? I'm just hungry. Pass the potatoes, will you Ron?"

"Harry's right you know, Gin, you do look pretty flushed."

Hermione, who had been looking from Ginny, to Dean, and back to Ginny, picked up a pitcher and poured Ginny some pumpkin juice. "Oh leave off, Ron, of course she's all right. You know how warm it gets in that classroom. Remember our third year exam in there? It was stifling. I thought I'd pass out. And it's been really warm lately. I'm feeling quite warm myself, and we were in the dungeons. So, are you guys ready for the match tomorrow?"

Harry, while mildly surprised at Hermione's apparent interest, was always eager to talk about Quidditch. "Oh yeah, we're ready. Don't you think so?"

"Yeah," answered Ginny. "Though," she looked away from Harry, her ears going pink again, "I was watching the Slytherin team practice during class today-,

"So that's why Malfoy wasn't in Potions," interrupted Ron. "Slimy git. Thinks he can get away with anything, just because he's Snape's favourite. What a total tosser."

Ginny, who had been taking a sip of pumpkin juice, choked into her goblet and put it down, sputtering. "Yes, quite." She managed. "Anyway, my point is, they've got a couple of new scoring formations that might give them an early lead. Mind you, if Harry catches the Snitch as fast as he has been in practice, there shouldn't be a problem."

Harry grinned. He'd always thought of Ginny as being rather girly, but she'd turned out to be an avid Quidditch fan, and just as fun to discuss the sport with as Ron. More so, lately, as most conversations with Ron about Hogwarts Quidditch tended to be coloured with Ron's insecurity about his own keeping abilities. "Well, don't worry about it. How about we meet at the pitch a half hour early for practice tonight, and you can outline their new moves for us."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "Sure, okay. I don't think Crabbe and Goyle will pose much of a problem for Jack or Andrew, they hardly seem to be able to tell which end of the bat to hold. Did you see their practice last week? Crabbe kept hitting Montague. I've never seen Montague so mad, with maybe the exception of learning you'd been let back on the team this year."

Ron grinned. "That was classic. I don't know what they expected though. They had to know that when Dumbledore'd got rid of Umbridge, he'd let Harry play again."

"Yeah, well," put in Dean, "Slytherins aren't exactly overly-furnished in the brain department, are they?"

Harry didn't reply, noticing that Dumbledore had stood up and was motioning for quiet.

"What's up?" Ron inquired. "There's never lunch time announcements."

Harry shrugged and turned in his seat to get a better view of the head table,

"Attention, please. Now we've all been fed and watered, there's a brief announcement I'd like to make. As of this morning the final arrangements were made, and so I'm pleased to inform you that this year, for 5th years and up, we will be holding a Career Fair. In previous years, Careers Advice consisted of various leaflets and a private discussion with one's head of house. This, while helpful to our fifth years, has hardly been adequate to sufficiently educate you on the possibilities for your careers-,"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, "especially with that old bat Umbridge sitting in and interrupting every two minutes…"

Ron and Hermione, who had heard Harry's account of his Careers Appointment, nodded appreciatively.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "after many months of preparation and coordination with various establishments, it has been possible to make a full, week-long event of it. During the first week of December we will be hosting representatives from various careers here at the school. Regular classes will be suspended for all students 5th year and above, and our guests will all be offering many presentations in their chosen field of employment for you to attend and participate in. This is a golden opportunity for our senior students to explore the possibilities and find out as much as they can about the post-graduation options open to them. On your way out of the Great Hall, your head of house will be providing you with leaflets outlining which careers will be represented at our Fair, so you can read up on them and decide which presentations you'd like to attend. And now, I think your professors would prefer I not detain you any longer from getting to your classes."

There was a great bustle as everyone got up from their tables and headed for the Entrance Hall, where the Heads of House were standing with bundles of leaflets.

Harry took a bundle from Professor Mcgonagall and headed, with Ron and Hermione, outside to Care of Magical Creatures.

"Hmm," said Hermione, who was eagerly flipping through one of the leaflets. "Ron, did you know Bill and Charlie were coming for the Career Fair?"

"What?" Said Ron, pulling the leaflet out of her hands. "Where?"

"Just there, see? And Bill's on the back." She pointed about halfway down the page, and Harry opened his own leaflet to see for himself. Sure enough, there was Charlie's name.

_Do you love the outdoors? Are you intrigued by new and interesting creatures? Do you have a high pain tolerance? Well this could be the career for you! Working with magical creatures for several years now, and specializing in dragons, Charlie Weasley will be offering a two hour presentation, assisted by Care of Magical Creatures professor Rubeus Hagrid, on career possibilities in the exciting field of Magical Creatures. _

Harry flipped the leaflet over and searched for Bill.

_Do you love treasure, travelling and adventure? Then have we got the career for you! Gringotts Wizarding Bank, currently recruiting curse-breakers, is an exciting vocation for any witch or wizard not afraid to risk life and limb for thrilling adventures and substantial treasure bonuses. Successful curse-breaker Bill Weasley will be sharing his experiences abroad…_

"How come they never told me about this?" Ron fumed. "I mean, this thing was supposed to be in the works for months right? You'd think they'd tell their own brother. Just like fourth year, with the Triwizard Tournament. They never tell me _anything_."

Ron's bad mood lasted, not only all the way through the rest of that day, but also through the following day, including their game against Slytherin. He'd been so distracted that he let in more than half of the Slytherins' goals, and Gryffindor only won because Harry caught the Snitch right from under Malfoy's nose. Ron's poor performance in the game only worsened his mood, and he didn't stop brooding until Hermione, near the end of the victory party in the common room that night, put her arm around his shoulder and said, "Oh cheer up, Ron. You did fabulously today. You're a _great_ Keeper," and kissed him on the cheek before heading (looking slightly flushed, Harry thought) up to her dormitory.

Harry noticed that Ron spent the rest of the evening grinning in a dazed sort of way, and touching his cheek when he thought no one was looking.

"_Never let a girl spend the night." Lucius said._

"_Yes, Father."_

"_You let a girl spend the night, and the next thing you know, she'll be expecting a ring. Trust me, I know. Do what you need to with her, then get rid of her. She never spends the night."_

"_Yes, Father."_

"_To be a part of the noble Malfoy clan, there are certain codes of behaviour expected of you. I expect you to uphold the law I set down for you, to make it the rule by which you live. Make it your own law. You will never let me down."_

"_I'm sorry, Father. I thought-,"_

"_Never apologise. Never explain."_

"_Yes, Father."_

It was freezing in the Slytherin boys' dormitories. As their dorms were in the dungeons, the windows had been enchanted to reflect the weather outside. Now, the December snow drifted silently outside.

"So? Get out." Draco picked up the flimsy satin dressing gown Pansy had worn to his dormitory and flung it over her.

"Why don't I just stay here tonight? It's not like the guys would care, they know about us. I could just-,"

"No, you couldn't. Get out."

"So, that's it, is it then?" She asked indignantly. "Wham-Bam-Thank you Ma'am?" She threw the covers off and started putting her gown on.

"Yeah, pretty much." He stretched out, taking up the full width of the bed.

Pansy snorted in disgust, tying her robe loosely in the front. "You know, Draco, you're sucking the romance out of this entire relationship."

"What romance?"

"Would it kill you to let someone in for change?"

Draco shrugged. "Nah, it'd just be boring is all."

Pansy shook her head and picked up her wand from his dressing table and headed for the door. "You know, one of these days someone's going to beat the arrogant shit right out of you, and I'm not going to do a thing to stop it."

"Ah, the sweet utterances of love…"

Pansy paused at the door and grinned at him. "I can't wait for that day, Draco Malfoy, I really can't. Someone, some day, is going to take you down. Personally? I hope it's Potter."

Draco's smile quickly faded. "Get out."

Pansy's grin widened and she started laughing as she opened the door.

"Get out, you stupid bint!" He picked up a heavy pewter bottle full of dragon's blood and threw it at her. She closed the door just in time, and it smashed against the wood, blood spilling everywhere.

Draco sighed. Fat lot _that_ accomplished. He was usually above such petty displays of childishness. He almost never let Pansy get to him, no matter how hard she tried. Despite the several months of intimate contact they'd shared, she really hardly knew anything about him, and he preferred it that way. She did, however, very occasionally know which buttons to press. Stupid bint.

He picked up his wand from the table and crossed the room to the door where he pointed it at the mess of blood and smashed stone that he had made.

'_I can't wait for that day, Draco Malfoy, I really can't.'_

"_Scourgify_." He muttered, and the mess disappeared. He put his wand down on his bedside table and picked up his green Hogwarts robe, wrapping it around himself and crossing to the window. He picked up his book that he had left there, sat down on the window seat and opened to page 413, where he had hidden the letter he'd received at breakfast that day. It bore his father's personal seal, and he'd decided it would be a good idea to wait for privacy to read it, something he hadn't managed to get any of until now.

He broke the seal and opened the letter. The writing was his father's, as he'd expected. His father had not written to him much since he and the other Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban three months before. Draco only received letters occasionally, to give him instructions or advice.

_Draco,_

_Your news of this Defence club, this 'DA', that the Potter boy's organized is cause for a little, if not much, concern. It would perhaps be prudent of you to make note of their numbers, and who is involved. It is unlikely they will be anything more than a nuisance, at most, but it is wise to keep an eye on all the pieces on the playing board, even those that seem insignificant. _

_I am pleased to say that plans are now in motion, plans to punish those responsible for my, and my colleagues', imprisonment. I expect you will be ready to assist us in this endeavour. _

Draco smiled at this. Yes. He had warned Potter that his father and the other Death Eaters would not be contained for long, and that when they were free, Potter would be punished. He so hoped that something inventive and horrifically painful was in store. That he would be there to see it.

_I understand that the mudblood-lover Dumbledore has arranged for a Career Fair to take place. _

That's right, remembered Draco. The Career Fair was starting tomorrow. He hadn't thought much about it, but supposed he really ought to go to at least a couple of the presentations. He couldn't very well tell his teachers 'Sorry, I don't need careers advice, Dad's already decided I'm to be a Death Eater.'

_This is a golden opportunity for you, Draco._

What? He reread the sentence; unsure he'd read it properly. He hardly expected to hear anything Dumbledore had said echoed in a letter of his father's.

_One of our associates will be attending, under the guise of the Fair. He will be giving a presentation for the International Magical Library Network. He is in fact in the service of our Master, and recruiting students of pureblood descent for the Dark Lord's cause. I'm sure that you will be among the first to assist him. Do all you can, spread the word. I expect to hear soon that you are in our Master's service. He has great hopes for you, Draco. I know you will never dishonour our family name._

_Your Father, Lucius Malfoy_

Draco put the letter back inside the book and put it down.

_Plans are now in motion, plans to punish those responsible for my, and my colleagues, imprisonment…_ _I expect you will be ready to assist us in this endeavour…_

'_Someone, some day, is going to take you down. Personally? I hope it's Potter.'_

Oh yes. Yes, Father, I'm ready.

The talk about the Career Fair buzzed around Ginny until she thought she'd go mad from hearing of it.

"Which sessions are you going to?"

"I was thinking about the St. Mungo's one…"

"I want to go to the Quidditch one. You know Oliver Wood's presenting?"

"Really? Oh, he's so _cute_! He was just in Witch Weekly's most eligible wizard list…"

The talk had begun the moment Dumbledore had finished his announcement, and had only escalated since then. Now on Monday morning, the first day of the fair, the 5th years and up could talk about nothing else.

Hermione had prattled on constantly about ambition and career paths and opportunities, ('This is a _golden _opportunity, Ron.') The night before the Fair began she had forced Ron and Harry to sit down with her and chart out which sessions they'd attend on which days in a complicated and colour-coded schedule. Luckily, she'd already created the schedules and all they had to do was tell her which sessions they wanted to go to.

Ginny had copied out a schedule from Hermione, as the girls in her own grade were being completely useless, choosing their sessions based on which ones their friends were attending and how cute the presenter was, rather than any particular interest in the content. It looked like Oliver Wood's session was going to well attended, as were (to Ginny's amusement and pride) Bill and Charlie's.

"What's your schedule today?" Ginny asked, leaning across the breakfast table and taking Harry's schedule from him to look it over.

"I'm going to Charlie's thing this afternoon." Harry said. "Should be good to see him again. Are you going to go?"

"Of course," she said, grinning, "What kind of supportive sister do you think I am? I assume you're going to the Auror's session this morning?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You know Shacklebolt and Tonks are running that one?"

"Yeah I know," Ginny replied.

Dean came and sat down next to Ginny, looking decidedly grumpy.

"You okay, Dean?" Ginny asked.

Dean nodded, stifling a yawn. "Just didn't sleep much. Hermione kept most of us up in the common room another two hours after you'd gone to bed, making those stupid session schedules…"

Ginny grinned. "I think they're really helpful," she said. "Anyway, at least I'll be a bit more organized. There's so many sessions I want to see, this way I know I won't miss one."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I love ya, Gin, but you're just a little too Hermione-esque sometimes."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, arriving with Ron and sitting between him and Harry.

"Nothing," said Dean. "Thanks, by the way, for the chart, Hermione. It's going to be really _helpful_."

Hermione smiled, seemingly unaware of Dean's sarcasm. "You're welcome. It is a good system, isn't it? I thought that if everyone had a schedule…"

But Ginny had stopped listening. Draco had just entered the hall, wearing Slytherin green (the shade that brought out his eyes) and flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle. Ginny had spent the month since first watching him on the Quidditch pitch trying very hard to not notice him and ignoring the way her stomach flipped over every time someone mentioned his name or he walked into the room. He was sauntering up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, on the way to his own. To Ginny's utter horror he slowed to a stop right behind her.

"Hey, Potter," he said, and Ginny did her very best to not notice how close he was to her. "Got your career as a dead man all planned out? I hear Weasley's brother is doing a session on how to be dragon food. Should be perfect for you."

Harry remained deadpan. "On the other hand, the session on lame insults and lack of moral compass is right up _your_ alley, Malfoy." Draco opened his mouth to make a retort, but noticed a group of professors on their way past the Gryffindor table, and so shut his mouth and moved on to his own table. Harry shook his head. "Git."

Ginny coughed and took a sip of juice, forcing herself to not watch Draco leave. She turned to Dean and gave him a devastating smile. "Have I kissed you yet today?"

Dean smiled, looking slightly surprised, but pleased. "I'm not sure. Maybe you should, just in case I missed it."

Ginny leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. His hand came up and tangled in her hair, and she closed her eyes and thought insistently of how wonderful and perfect for her Dean was. She pushed down the guilty feeling that told her she was being distinctly unfair to Dean.

Now just stop all this Malfoy nonsense. Dean is a wonderful boyfriend. And hey, there's no way that Malfoy could ever do _that_ with his-,

"Hey, look," said Ron, "I'm trying to be easy going here and all, but you keep that up and I'm going to have to get protective and violent here."

"Yeah," said Harry, "and we are kind of eating."

Ginny pulled away and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Dean grinned. "I'm not."

Ginny hit him on the arm and worked on finishing her breakfast, feeling much better. Dean was a fantastic boyfriend. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been, plain and simple.

When breakfast was over, the whole group (Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Dean) went together into Entrance hall, where a list was posted of where each session was being held. Ginny slipped her arm around Dean's waist and leaned against him, and he automatically placed his arm around her shoulder. They all waited while Hermione ducked into the crowd surrounding the list. She came back slightly breathless, her arm to her side.

"Ouch." Hermione moaned, rubbing side. "I just got elbowed in the ribs by some Slytherin 5th year. Okay, the Auror session is being held in classroom eleven, where Firenze usually teaches. Dean, you said last night you're going to the session on Magical Commerce?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm meeting Seamus there. There's a representative from Diagon Alley leading it."

"Well that's being held in Professor Mcgonagall's classroom," Hermione said.

"Thanks Hermione," he said. He shifted Ginny's books in his arms, which he'd insisted on carrying from the Great Hall, and handed them back to her. "Here ya go, Gin. I'll see at lunch, okay?"

Ginny nodded, putting her books in her bag. She craned her neck and gave him a quick kiss. "See you then." She squeezed his hand, then turned and hurried to catch up with Ron, Harry and Hermione, who'd headed off to classroom eleven.

When Harry entered classroom eleven he noticed right away that it had been transformed back into a regular classroom, instead of the forest clearing it usually was when Firenze was teaching. There were already several students there, huddled together in groups of twos and threes. He was shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing, on his own, in one corner of the room. He felt a surge of pride, however, to see that the group mostly consisted of DA members.

The DA had continued to meet fairly regularly, with Dumbledore's permission, and had almost doubled in size since the Ministry had publicly acknowledged Voldemort's return.

Off to one side, (as usual), was Neville, sitting against the wall and surrounded by leaflets.

"Hi Neville," Harry called, waving him over. Neville smiled; looking relieved, and gathered up his leaflets.

"I didn't know you wanted to be an Auror, Neville," said Hermione.

Neville looked uncomfortable. "Well, I don't really. I mean, my Potions isn't nearly good enough, and neither are my Charms or Transfiguration, but Gran expected me to go. 'Cause of mum and dad…"

Harry nodded sympathetically. Neville's parents had been two of the best Aurors of their time. His grandmother had always looked down on him for not being as good a wizard as they'd been.

Ginny, who, Harry thought, looked slightly flushed, smiled at Neville encouragingly. She'd told Harry once that she'd always felt a little guilty around Neville, ever since she'd ditched him at the Yule Ball for Michael Corner. "Are you going to Professor Sprout's session on Breeding and Care of Magical Plants and Fungi?"

Neville nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. She 'specially asked me to come. Said she thought I was-," he faltered a little, "thought I was g-gifted."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "Well, you're awfully good at Herbology, Neville. Anyway, it doesn't matter that you don't want to be an Auror. It'll be interesting anyway, and you can hang out with us until your Herbology session.

Neville looked relieved and stuffed all his leaflets into his bag.

"All right, everyone, let's gather over here!" Called a young woman, who Harry instantly recognised as Nymphadora Tonks. He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, as it did so often these days. Her hair was shock-pink today, and her eyes were a strange shade of green. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination but somehow, even when she changed her appearance dramatically, she still looked like Sirius.

Next to Tonks stood Kingsley Shacklebolt; a tall, bald, black wizard dressed in Ministry robes. They both had nametags fixed to their robes, (Harry noticed that Tonks' only had her last name,) and they were smiling brightly at the, now fair-sized, group of students in the room.

"Yes, gather around everyone," said Kingsley. "Mr. Malfoy, you'll be joining us?"

Malfoy stayed where he was. "I'm good here, thanks."

Kingsley looked for a moment as though he might insist Malfoy join the group, but apparently changed his mind and turned instead to Harry. "Hello, Harry," he said brightly. "Mind closing the door, would you?"

Harry turned around and shut the door, then joined the rest, who had all taken their seats.

"Well," Tonks began, "this is the session on Auror Training, in case anyone's gotten turned around." She paused a moment, glancing at Malfoy, giving him (and anyone else) time to pipe up and say they were in the wrong place, but no one did.

"Well, you've all chosen a worthy career path, if a difficult one," Kingsley said. "It will require rigorous training, even after you've all graduated. But there is a great need for Aurors in the wizarding world, now, more than ever."

A sort of breathless silence followed this little speech, and Harry knew that everyone, with the possible exception of Malfoy, was thinking the same thing. He looked around at the members of the DA and felt another rush of pride at seeing that they, unlike the others, looked not fearful but sort of fiercely determined.

Tonks and Kingsley started off by telling them what kinds of tests they'd have to take and the sort of grades they'd need. They then went on to show everyone some old tests that they had taken, and had everyone try a few themselves.

"The test that nearly got me was Stealth and Tracking." Tonks was saying, and Harry thought for a moment that she had winked at him. "I'm dead clumsy."

"Yes, that test is rather difficult," Kingsley agreed. "I found it rough myself, and I'm excellent at Stealth. It was the Tracking that nearly got me though. I've never been good at picking up smells or footprints, or any of that."

"Smells?" asked Susan Bones, who was sitting next to Ginny.

"Yes," said Kingsley. "Many different dark creatures, and even some wizards, leave behind very distinctive smells. The dark wizard Grindelwald used to leave behind a smell like rotten eggs and cauliflower whenever he used a particularly bad bit of dark magic. The Fae leave a place smelling like damp moss and blood wherever they go. Unicorns smell quite distinctly of sugar, and you can always tell when a Grindylow's near, as they tend to smell strongly of seaweed. When studying for my own exams, I found it useful to go and experience all these different smells in context, rather than just reading about them. Now, in terms of preparing for the Stealth portion of the exam…"

But Harry had stopped listening. Something Kingsley had said had triggered something in his mind, like a strong sense of déjà vu. He felt like he was on the brink of knowing something, or remembering something. Something important. What had he said? Something about experiencing smells. No, not that, something else. What was it? Unicorns, sugar, Grindylows, Grindelwald… Yes, Grindelwald, something about the dark wizard Grindelwald. He smelled like rotten eggs. No, that wasn't it. But it did have to do with Grindelwald.

"Now, as to Charms requirements," Kingsley was saying. "Your performance in your NEWTS is very important, and you'll need top grades…"

Harry closed his eyes, trying desperately to shut out Kingsley's voice and remember what it was that was so important. Something Kingsley had said had triggered it, the feeling of almost knowing. What had he said? Grindelwald, and dark magic, and then something about unicorns. No, there was something before that. Smells, and seaweed and moss. Moss… 'Damp moss and blood'. In Harry's dream, a month ago, he had smelt that smell. But no, that smell had been different. Sweeter somehow, and colder. But it had definitely been close. And someone had said something about Grindelwald. Or had that been something he'd read?

"All right everyone, let's get up and try some of this magic now," Tonks was saying, and everyone was getting up from their seats. Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. The feeling was gone. He'd almost had it; it had been right on the edge, just beyond his reach. He was sure, if he'd just had several moments of quiet in which to think, he could have gotten it. But now it was gone, completely, and he could hardly think what it was he was trying to remember. He sighed and got up from his seat, going to stand with Ron and Hermione.

They spent the rest of the session trying NEWT level magic that they would need to master, and Harry was satisfied to see most of the DA already knew a good deal of the magic being taught them, and caught on fast to the magic they didn't. When the session ended and they all headed to lunch, all the members of the DA were chatting enthusiastically about their ambitions to be Aurors, and even Neville felt better.

"I can't wait to tell Gran about my Patronus!" he said happily.

Harry was quiet. Like all of them, he had been inspired by the session, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed something important, like he'd forgotten his textbook before class, or left his wand someplace. But what had affected him most was seeing Tonks, Sirius's cousin… Now his ambitions to fight the Dark Side had been cemented into an almost violent resolve. For months the image of Sirius tumbling through the Archway had played, like a movie reel, over and over in his head. He had sworn that he would fight, and win, against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, against Bellatrix, if only to avenge Sirius.

Kingsley was right. Now, more than ever, they needed to fight.

He could still hear Bellatrix's voice in his head.

_'I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin… Did you _love _him, Potter? You need to really want to cause pain, to enjoy it…'_

Now, more than ever.

REFERENCES:

1) "Big stone room filled with boredom and despair" –_Buffy_

2) "Slytherins aren't exactly overly furnished in the brain department." –_Blackadder_

21


	2. Chapter 2

Where the Wild Things Are Chapter 2 

Meals became hurried affairs during the days of the Career Fair; everyone was anxious to finish up and get to their next session.

After breakfast on the fourth day of the fair, everyone got up from the table and headed together, as was now custom, into the Entrance Hall before parting ways. Harry assumed that they were all, with the exception of Hermione, going to Oliver Wood's Quidditch session on the Pitch, and so he was somewhat surprised when Ron broke off from the others.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. "Aren't you coming to the Pitch?"

Hermione looked at Ron with raised eyebrows; she had obviously made the same assumption as Harry.

Ron's ears went slightly pink and he looked away. "No, I don't think so," he said quietly. "I'm going to a session in Binns's room."

"But, I thought you wanted to--" Harry started, but was cut off by Hermione.

"He doesn't have to go, Harry. It's okay," she said softly, giving him a look that very plainly said, 'leave it'.

Harry looked at Ron, who was refusing to meet his gaze and looking very pink.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said at his elbow. "We're going to miss the start of the session."

"Go on," said Ron. "I'll see you guys at dinner." He then turned and headed off for the stairs.

Harry turned to Hermione. "What was that about?" he asked.

Hermione looked away from him and watched Ron leave. "He told me last night that he really wanted to go to the session on Magical Transportation. That's in the History of Magic classroom."

"Yeah, but what about Oliver's--"

Hermione turned to face him, but Harry noticed she didn't quite meet his eye. "What's the big deal, Harry? So he doesn't want to go to the session. Not everyone's as nuts as you are about Quidditch. Anyway, you guys had better get going. You're going to be late, and so am I. I've got a session in the Charms classroom and that's on the other side of the castle. I'll see you at dinner," she said. With that she turned and walked out the same way Ron had left.

"What's up with them?" Harry asked Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. "Got me. She's right though, we're going to be late. Come on."

Ron slowly climbed the last steps of the Astronomy Tower, pushed open the door and stepped out into the open air. He looked around, making sure he was alone, then crossed to the opposite side and sat down on the bench. The Astronomy Tower was the favourite spot of students who wished to meet their sweethearts secretly at night, and thus, Ron had hardly ever been up here outside of classes. However, from this side of the tower he had a perfect view of the Quidditch Pitch where Oliver was just starting his session. He could just barely make out Harry, his glasses glinting in the rare December sun, and Ginny, who's bright hair looked almost like fire in the morning light. He assumed that the figure next to her was Dean, though it was hard to tell him apart from the other Gryffindor team members who surrounded Harry, their team captain. Not far off from them, Ron recognized the Slytherin team, with Malfoy at its heart, easily identifiable by his white-blonde hair.

The crowd around Oliver (mostly girls,) was quite substantial, and Harry's group had been pushed to the back. Ron leaned forward, noticing that a slight situation seemed to be arising between the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams. Or, at least, between Ginny and Malfoy. They were standing opposite one another, their respective teams behind them, and seemed to be arguing about something. After a minute, Ginny turned and stormed to the opposite side of the crowd.

Ron sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the biting winter wind across his face and allowing himself to fall into misery and insecurity. It would have been fun to be down there with the other team members, to see Oliver Wood again and hear what it was like being on a national Quidditch team. But Ron knew they'd be doing demonstrations, and would probably have a game, and he just couldn't take that. He'd spent his whole life being compared to everyone he cared about. To his brothers, his best friend, his… whatever Hermione was. He'd never been better than anyone at anything. Sure, he'd made the Quidditch team, but he knew that was only because Harry was on the team. And this year, Harry had been made Team Captain, on top of everything else. Ron was certain that Harry only let him stay on the team because they were friends. He was a rubbish Keeper. He couldn't display that in front of Oliver, who'd been one of Gryffindor's best Keepers in two centuries.

"Nice view up here, isn't it?"

Ron almost fell off the bench as he whipped round to see Hermione standing framed in the doorway. Her book bag was over one shoulder and her hair was pulled back in a ragged ponytail. At least twenty questions rose in his mind, and it was a moment before he could get even one of them out.

"Wh—what? How'd you know I'd be here?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "It's the best view of the Quidditch Pitch." She shut the door and crossed to the bench, where she dropped her book bag and sat down. She looked out across the Pitch for a moment before adding, "Plus, I followed you."

Ron sighed and looked away. "Well, you shouldn't have. You're missing your Charms session."

"There isn't a Charms session," she said simply. "Just like there's no session in Binns's classroom." She turned to him and grinned again. "Really, Ron, if you're going to lie about your session schedule, you should know better than to do it in front of the person who's got them all memorized."

Despite his attempts to look annoyed, his lips curved into a small smile. "Thanks. I'll remember that."

A moment of silence followed this, and they sat comfortably side by side, staring out across the Quidditch Pitch.

"So?" Hermione said finally. "Having a good brood, are you?"

Ron's amusement quickly faded and he stood up, resting his arms on the parapet and staring out across the grounds. "Oh, sod off, Hermione. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure I do," she said. "You're feeling inferior to Harry and the other team members, jealous and overshadowed, and you don't want to display what you think are bad Quidditch skills in front of Oliver. Am I warm?"

Ron faltered for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You know, your insightfulness is buggering inconvenient sometimes."

Hermione got up and came to stand next to him. "Why?" she asked, turning around to lean her back against the wall. "Would it be so terrible if I knew how you felt for a change?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you _always_ know how I feel. You always know how _everyone_ feels. It's kind of creepy actually."

Hermione looked away now and began carefully studying her hands. "That's not true …"

"Okay, fine, maybe you don't always know how _everyone_ feels. I suppose the Bloody Baron's got everyone stumped on his feelings. But for the most part--"

"I mean I don't always know how _you _feel," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"You knew I'd be here, didn't you?"

"Ron, that's not what I'm talking about…"

Ron let out a sigh of frustration. "Well then, what _are_ you talking about Hermione? You can't expect me to figure these things out if you don't bloody well _tell_ me, I'm not psychic, and I'm not a girl, so why don't you just--"

"Guh!" she exclaimed, and stamped her foot against the stone. "You are so _stupid_! Why can't you ever just be positive, or believe in yourself? Why can't you ever talk seriously about something without getting mad?"

"I can!" shouted Ron, his insecurity flaring into anger. "_I'm_ not the one who can't just say what she means! Andanyway, _you're_ the one who started this stupid fight! Is that why you came up here?"

Tears were starting to well up in Hermione's eyes. "I didn't come here to fight! I just came up here to cheer you up and to tell you that… I don't even know! God, I don't even _know_ why I came up here."

"Well, why don't you leave then?"

"Because I want to be with _you_!" she yelled. She covered her mouth with her hands, as though she'd said something terrible and turned away. "Fine," she mumbled, grabbing her bag and slinging it round her shoulder. "Fine, I'm leaving…"

She ran to the door, yanked it open and stormed through it.

"Damn," Ron muttered, and ran after her down the tower steps. "Hermione, wait!"

She stopped, but didn't turn. "For what?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Ron opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He'd followed and called out to her without any thought for what he'd say if she actually stopped. "I don't know," he said finally. "I don't know… just… just wait."

Hermione sighed, dropped her book bag and sank down on the steps. Tears were running down her face, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

Ron sat down next to her. After a very awkward moment of silence he said, "I'm sorry." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Hermione sighed again. "Me too."

"I'm just…" he trailed off. God, she wanted him to talk about his _feelings_, he knew that. But how? How the hell was he supposed to tell her these things? About how he was jealous of Harry's wealth and luck and fame, Harry, who was supposed to be his best friend. Or how he'd always wished he could prove Hermione wrong in something, or beat her in one, just _one_ test. Or how when he'd seen her with Krum in fourth year he'd thought his insides had shriveled up and his heart had stopped beating. How could she expect him to actually _say_ those things?

"I just… I always say the wrong thing around you…"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah…"

Ron laughed, more out of nerves than actual amusement. "You're not supposed to _agree_ with me, Hermione."

"Why not? It's true," she said simply.

Ron turned to look at her. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes were red and puffy and her hair had come loose in the wind.

"You look really beautiful," he said, feeling his stomach turn over. Did he really just say that?

Hermione turned fuchsia, suddenly aware of her appearance it seemed. She wiped her face dry, then pulled the elastic out of her hair, combed her fingers through it and started to tie it back again.

Without thinking, Ron reached out and grabbed her hand. "Leave it down," he said. Why, _why_ did his hands have to shake when he was nervous? And really, what was he so scared of? I mean, if she was going to turn into a banshee, rip out his heart, feed it to the thestrals and light him on fire, she'd probably have done it by now, wouldn't she? But he couldn't stop shaking. God, he was terrified.

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

Ron hesitated. What was she expecting? Oh God, what should he do? "Uhh…" he stuttered. "Um, I… 'Well' what?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "Are you going to bloody well kiss me or not?"

Ron was taken aback. Whatever he was expecting her to say, it certainly wasn't that. But then, now he thought of it, that really was the logical course of action. It couldn't be _that_ hard, could it? I mean, Harry'd done it once, and he'd survived. What had Harry told him about it? 'Wet' he'd said. He'd said it had been wet. Wet? Oh bugger this; he really had no idea what he was doing. He turned away.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Ron," Hermione said with a sigh, and grabbed his tie, pulling him toward her.

And before he could do or say anything, she was kissing him. Ron's stomach flipped over again, and he thought for one horrifying moment that he might be sick. But then he felt her mouth smile against his, and she giggled, and suddenly he wasn't afraid any more. Instincts he never knew he had took over, and he slid his arms around her, pulling her against him.

God, this was wonderful. What the hell had taken him so long to do this? He couldn't even remember what he'd been afraid of, or how exactly they'd gotten here, or even where 'here' was. The only thing he was even remotely aware of was Hermione and her lips on his. It was amazing how she seemed to fit perfectly in his arms.

A laugh escaped her throat, and he paused, unsure if maybe she was laughing _at_ him. But she kissed him again, smiling. Her arms wound around his neck and she pulled herself into his lap. Her fingers combed through his hair, ran down his neck, brushed against he cheeks. He ran his hands down her back and felt her shiver. Soon they were gasping for breath, but the more Ron pulled away from her, the less he felt he could breathe. He pulled her closer, if that was possible, as if she were the only source of air.

"Ron," she whispered into his mouth.

"Hermione," he said back, assuming that was the correct response, and kissed her again.

"No, Ron," she gasped. "Ron, we have to stop…"

That seemed impossible somehow. "What is it?" he murmured.

"No, it's just," she said, kissing him again, seemingly unable to stop either. "It's just… I'm afraid we're going to fall down the stairs…"

Ron pulled back at this and looked around. Indeed, they were half lying down in a stairwell, and only now did Ron feel the stone steps cutting into his back.

"How'd we get here?" he asked, bemused.

Hermione giggled. "The Astronomy Tower, remember?"

"Oh yeah…"

Hermione rolled off him and he sat up, laughing.

"I suppose we've got to be getting back," Ron said. "What time is it, do you think?"

Hermione didn't even look at her watch. "We have time."

Ron smiled.

Hermione sighed happily and leaned against him, and he put his arm around her. It was funny how the idea of doing that used to terrify him. They sat like that in silence for several minutes before Hermione murmured his name softly.

"Hm," he answered.

"Tell me this isn't a dream."

Ron thought about it. To be honest, he wasn't certain it wasn't a dream. He'd had several that had gone very much like this, though Hermione had usually been more scantily clad, and they'd never taken place in the staircase of the Astronomy Tower.

"If it is," he answered, "I'm not waking up."

When Draco arrived on the Quidditch pitch, he saw that a large group of people were already there, most of them girls. He didn't understand what all this fuss over Oliver Wood was about; Draco thought he was just another Gryffindor pansy, and a complete tosser to boot. He seemed to be in the minority though. Even Goyle had a Witch Weekly pinup of Wood hidden under his bed.

Draco sighed and went to join his Slytherin teammates at the edge of the crowd. He scanned the crowd, keeping a lookout for Potter and his gang. He noticed a few members of the Gryffindor team standing only a few feet away, but Potter didn't seem to be there yet.

As his father had instructed, Draco had kept a close eye on where Potter and his various groupies went. It was tedious and degrading, but he still preferred it to the alternative, which involved telling his father that he really had no idea (and nor did he care) what the hell Potter had been up to. He'd considered all the possible reactions this could get from his father. None of them had been pleasant, and most of them resulted in losing the use of at least one body part (if not more) for longer than he could go without. So, he'd managed a look at Potter's session schedule at breakfast on the first day of the Fair. He went himself to all the ones he could stomach, and sent Pansy (with many protests) to the ones he couldn't.

A sunny laughter caught his attention, and Draco saw that Potter was arriving. Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas accompanied him. It was Ginny who was laughing. She had jumped on Dean's back and he was attempting to carry her across the pitch to join their Gryffindor teammates. After a moment Ginny caught sight of Draco, and instantly her smile faded. She turned red and fell to the ground in an undignified heap.

The other Slytherin team members, who had also been watching, erupted into laughter, and Draco grinned.

"Graceful, Weasley, really," he called out to her. Perhaps this session wouldn't be so boring after all. "You should try that in the next match, the drop from your broom would really improve your looks!"

Potter and Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell bent down to help Ginny up. She had turned bright red and was hastily brushing dirt off her robes.

Dean pulled out his wand. "Take that back, Malfoy."

Ginny stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Dean, forget it."

"I'm not going to forget it Ginny," Dean was saying, gritting his teeth. "He insulted you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't defend you?"

"You're kidding," came Pansy's voice from behind Draco. Draco turned to see her approaching. She slipped her hand into his, and grinned nastily at Ginny. "Someone's going out with _that_?"

Draco noticed that Ginny's gaze rested for a moment on Pansy's hand in his before turning away and looking at Dean.

"It's fine, Dean, I don't care," she said.

Dean looked unhappy, but lowered his wand. "I don't know what you're smirking about, Malfoy," he said. "At least my girlfriend doesn't charge hourly rates."

Pansy gasped and looked at Draco expectantly, perhaps hoping he would jump to her defense as Dean had done for Ginny.

Draco looked Ginny up and down. "My girlfriend may be a tart, Thomas," Draco could feel Pansy's glare beside him, "but at least she's a sexy tart, which is more than I can say for your red-headed whore here."

The effect of this statement was instantaneous. Katie gasped and shrieked "How _dare_ you!?" The boys all stepped forward, and Potter pulled his wand out from his robes.

Ginny's hand dropped from Dean's side and she stared at Draco lividly. Tears had leapt to her eyes and she had gone extremely red again.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she said quietly.

Draco grinned, knowing he'd probably get hexed into oblivion tonight for what he was about to say. "Sorry, Weasley, that's Pansy's job."

Ginny quickly turned away to hide the tears that had splashed down her face. Wordless and glowing red, she picked up her book bag and stormed away to the opposite side of the crowd.

"What's going on back there?" called Wood, and all the Gryffindor boys looked at each other, then glared at Draco, before putting their wands away and muttering under their breath.

"You're going pay for this, Malfoy," Draco heard Potter say quietly before he moved away with the rest of his Gryffindor teammates.

"Draco," Pansy hissed angrily, "how _dare_ you insult me in front of Potter and his gang! You should have hexed Thomas into pieces for what he said, not _agree_ with him about…"

Pansy continued ranting at him for the rest of the session; but Draco didn't hear much of it, he was watching Ginny. She had dropped her book bag on the grass beside her and was standing with her arms crossed, staring firmly at the ground. Every now and then she would look up at him, see that he was watching her, and look away quickly.

He looked her over. Her figure was light and pleasing; generally big and small in the right places. The blush that was spread over her features really quite became her. Her hands were small and delicate, but if her spell-work was any indication (Draco still cringed to remember her bat-bogey hex,) they were definitely capable of real strength, which was an asset in more than one circumstance. Her eyes, brimming with tears, were a pleasant shade of brown. Her nose and cheeks were dotted with several small freckles, which wasn't a look Draco usually preferred, but seemed to suit Ginny well enough. Her classically 'Weasley' red hair, which he had been trained to revile, shone brilliantly in the sunlight and suited her better than all the other Weasleys combined.

So, Draco thought, the Weasley girl has a crush on me. Not that it was terribly surprising, most of the girls in the school had crushes on him, especially the younger ones, and he couldn't say he really blamed them. But a Weasley? Not a crush Draco had been looking for, by any stretch of the imagination. Still, definitely one he could make use of.

Draco thought over her behavior towards him over the last four years. She'd never treated him with anything but contempt and revulsion, and he'd never given her a reason for that to change. Her signals and body language now spoke pretty clearly though; something had changed.

He supposed it made a strange kind of sense. People always said there was a fine line between love and hate.

By the time Ginny sat down to lunch, she had managed to convince Harry and Dean that she was all right, that Draco hadn't really gotten to her. It was, of course, a flat out lie. She'd smiled a lot and kissed Dean, and that seemed to be good enough for him. Harry had been a harder sell; she'd always been wretched at hiding her feelings from him. Eventually, though, after an extremely winning smile and a well-placed joke about Malfoy's idiocy, Harry'd bought it. Now she just had to keep them from talking about it in front of Hermione, who would be sure to catch on that something was amiss. The last thing Ginny needed was for anyone to find out about her feelings for Draco. Not that she _had_ any feelings for Draco, of course.

"You know," Harry was saying, "you really should have let me and Dean turn him into a ferret for you."

"Yeah," Dean put in, "like Moody, or the Moody impostor, I mean. Like he did in fourth year. I mean, you should have at least let me hit him."

"Hit who?" asked Ron, who had just arrived with Hermione. They both sat down next to Harry, and Ron started pouring Hermione a glass of pumpkin juice.

"No one, it's not important," Ginny said quickly. "How was your session, Ron?"

To Ginny's surprise, Ron grinned, glancing quickly at Hermione, and went slightly pink around the ears. "It was… good."

Hermione was also blushing, and Ginny noticed that both she and Ron's ties were rather loosened. Ginny fought back a laugh. About bloody time.

"So," she said conversationally, "you two finally stopped fighting the inevitable and got together, did you?"

Harry looked quickly from Ginny to Ron and Hermione, who had gone from a little flushed to bright red. "What?" he said. "Really?"

Hermione grinned sheepishly and Ron started stammering something unintelligible.

Dean laughed. "Well, about time. You know," he leaned across the table to Ron, "if you guys want to find a closet to go make out in, Ginny and I could recommend a few good ones."

Ron sprayed the gulp of juice he had been drinking across the table. "What?!" He looked at Ginny. "You-, you guys-…my sister-, in a _closet_?!"

Ginny smacked Dean on the arm. "Of _course_ not, Ron. Dean, don't be disgusting. Like I'd ever do something like that." Ron looked relieved and started in on his pie. Ginny kept a straight face as she added, "Closets are too dusty."

Ron choked on his pie.

"Oh, leave off him, Ginny," said Hermione. She looked at Harry, who had become rather quiet. "Harry? Are you… are you okay with this?"

Harry looked up at both she and Ron, who were looking at him nervously. He smiled brightly at them. "Of course, I am. I'm happy for you guys! About time, really. At least you two will stop fighting now."

Well now, Ginny thought, that's odd. One of the pluses of having been in love with Harry for three years was that, having been so attuned to his every move, she could almost always tell when he was lying. But why should Harry have a problem with Ron and Hermione? Ginny had spent the better part of her crush years trying to figure out if Harry had feelings for Hermione, and came to the conclusion that, while he certainly liked her very much, there wasn't anything beyond friendship in his feelings.

Ginny looked at Hermione to see if she'd picked up on Harry's discomfort, as she was usually the first to notice these things, but Hermione was busy grinning at Ron, and Ron back at her.

Dean made a retching noise into his hand. "I don't know, Harry," he said. "Between constant fighting and the googly eyes they're making at each other, I think I'll take the fighting."

That night Ginny hurried back from the library toward Gryffindor Tower. The lights in the hallway had dimmed and she realized it was well past curfew. She sped up, thinking that it would fit perfectly with her wretched day if Filch caught her out after curfew and gave her detention. Filch had reached new levels of vindictiveness after Umbridge's departure from the school, and no one was certain he would obey Dumbledore's order that students were _not_ to be whipped.

She stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait and stared up at it. It was empty. The Fat Lady had apparently gone on one of her nighttime strolls, leaving her locked out of the Tower until she returned. Great, Ginny thought. She dropped her book bag and sat down in front the portrait, settling down to wait for the Fat Lady's return.

She'd spent the evening studying for her OWLs in hopes that it would distract her. She'd managed to distract herself briefly at lunch, with Ron and Hermione's announcement. But after that she'd had a free afternoon and nothing to keep her mind off the things Draco had said to her on the Quidditch Pitch. She'd dwelt on them all afternoon and evening; Draco's contempt and disgust had played over and over in her mind, and she now felt thoroughly miserable. She berated herself for letting him get to her, for allowing herself to feel so hurt by his obvious disdain for her.

_'That's__ more than I can say for your red-headed whore here__…'_

She sighed, trying to push back the angry mix of emotions stirring up once more inside her.

"You're being stupid, Ginny," she said out loud to herself.

"Yeah, but that's not new," came a cold, drawling voice from behind her. Ginny whipped around to see Draco himself standing in the corridor behind her, leaning comfortably against the wall.

Ginny felt the blood leap to her cheeks, and she thanked heaven that it was dark in the corridor. She fumbled to get up, slinging her book-bag back over her shoulder.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? And how'd you find this portrait?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I followed you." He looked entirely unembarrassed by this, cocky even. He had complete control of the situation, and he knew it.

Oh, how she wished that she didn't find that sexy. What _was_ it with her and dangerous Slytherins?

"Why?" she asked. "Think of something else really hurtful to say to me, did you?"

He smiled at her, and Ginny cursed her knees for weakening. His smile was awfully cute-- No. It's _not_ cute, she told herself firmly. It's annoying. I'm annoyed.

"Hurtful? Weasley, I didn't think you cared what I thought…"

Ginny's blush deepened. "I don't care…"

"Right," he said, smiling. "That's why you're blushing, I assume."

Ginny scowled at him. "If you're here to put a hex on me or beat me up or something, then get on with it, Malfoy. You're wasting my time."

"Beat you up?" He seemed genuinely confused. "Why on earth would I follow you all the way up here for that? I mean, sure, it'd be funny I guess, but hardly worth getting snagged by Filch."

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes in disgust. She pushed past him and headed back down the corridor, figuring that if Filch caught her, at least he'd catch Malfoy too. He followed her, keeping pace at her side. She couldn't decide if she was annoyed or excited.

"Oh, come on now, I came up here for a reason."

Ginny didn't stop walking, or even look at him. She turned down another corridor and continued on. "A reason? Really? You mean a reason besides making a thorough nuisance of yourself? Because you're doing a great job of that."

"Come on, Weasley. I came here to talk to you."

As much as her teenage hormones were enjoying his proximity and attention, the small objective and sensible part of her brain was screaming out warning signals. When had Draco ever spoken to her like this? No, something was up. She stopped and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "So? Talk."

"What, here?" he looked around at this, "We'll get caught by Filch."

Ginny stood her ground. "I don't care. I'm not going anywhere with you, Malfoy."

Draco took a step toward her. "Look, Weasley. I realize the idea of us getting caught out here and having to serve detention alone together makes you hot, but I don't particularly--"

Ginny clenched her fists, fighting against the urge to hit him. "Sod off, Malfoy!" She turned on her heel and started back the way they'd come, but was brought up short by Mrs. Norris, who was standing in her path.

"Meow!" said Mrs. Norris loudly.

"What is it, my sweet?" came Filch's voice suddenly from a nearby adjoining corridor. "I'm coming!"

"Shit!" Ginny gasped.

"Come on!" Draco hissed. He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hallway, and Ginny was too panicked to resist. They turned down the next corridor and ran for the nearest door, which Draco ripped open and shoved her into, closing it behind him.

Upon going through the door, Ginny immediately tripped over a pile of brooms and went careening into a shelf of cleaning potions. They were in a broom closet. When Draco shut the door, they were in total darkness. She reached up tentatively and took hold of the shelf, trying to pull herself to a standing position. Her hands brushed several bottles on the shelf, two of which toppled and hit her on the head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "Where's my wand? Lumos." A dim light appeared, shining through the cloth of her bag, which was on the floor behind Draco.

"Be quiet," whispered Draco. "And put that out, do you want us to get caught? Nox." The light went out.

"I'm trying--" she whispered back, "to stand up. I'm falling over."

After a second of silence she felt Draco standing over her. He took her by the arms and pulled her to her feet, then pushed her backwards and pinned her against the wall.

"Hey, let me go--"

"Shh!" he said quickly, and covered her mouth with his hand. After a second, Ginny could hear footsteps in the corridor outside.

"Where did they go, my sweet?" came Filch's oily voice from just outside the door.

Ginny felt Draco's grip on her arm tighten, as if he were willing her to stay silent. Like she needed telling. After several long moments, Ginny could hear Filch moving on down the corridor until his footsteps died away.

And still Draco didn't move. Ginny's heart was racing, and she tried desperately to think of something besides how close he was. His face was inches from her own, and she could feel his breath against her cheeks.

No, she thought. No, I'm going out with Dean. She tried to shake herself free from his grip, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Let me go, Draco. Lumos." Her wand lit from behind them, filling the closet with a dim light.

Draco let his hands drop and he stepped back slightly. "'Draco'?"

Ginny felt herself blush (she was doing that a lot today) and tried to push past him. "What, that's your name, isn't it? Would you prefer I call you something else? 'Cause I've a few names that might suit you."

Draco stepped in front of her, blocking her way to the door. "No, it's just… You never say my first name… I like it."

Ginny stopped and stared at him, unsure she'd heard him correctly. He stepped toward her and Ginny felt her heart speed up again. A small voice at the back of her head was screaming at her, telling her that this didn't make any sense. Draco never behaved or spoke like this; he only ever treated her, and the rest of her friends and Gryffindor students, with contempt and ridicule. The voice cried for her to get her things and leave. But the longer she stood there, the less she could hear it.

Draco reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. He leaned toward her, and Ginny thought her heart would beat right out of her chest.

"Say it again," Draco whispered.

No. No. Tell him you're going out with Dean. Tell him you can't stand the sight of him and you wish he'd never been born.

She shook her head, planning to tell him to leave her alone. "Draco--" she started, but didn't get any further than that. He bent his head and covered her mouth with his.

For a moment Ginny's mind was wiped completely blank of anything but Draco, and she couldn't move. Never in her life had she been kissed like this. Michael had rarely kissed her at all, and when he had it had always been quick and nervous. Dean was always sweet and gentle, almost shy.

The only person who'd ever made her feel like this was Tom, when he had emerged from the Diary. It was draining, painful, intoxicating. Every inch of her body was on fire. Draco took a firm hold of her shoulders and pulled her closer. She couldn't move. She couldn't even think. He was crushing her mouth with his own, his fingers digging into her arms so hard that she was sure there would be bruises there tomorrow. He stepped forward, backing her into the corner, and she leaned gratefully against the wall, unable to hold herself up. He folded his arms tightly around her body, closing her off from the rest of world. He was hurting her. She knew she should make him stop. She also knew that she didn't want him to.

She couldn't breathe. She tried to pull away from him, gasping for air, but he wouldn't let her. He just held her more tightly, pressing her hard against the wall with his body. Her mind became fuzzy, her vision blurred. She needed oxygen, but she didn't want it. She was drowning in fire, and she didn't want to stop. She wanted to die here.

"Ginny," Draco whispered into her mouth, and something in his voice sounded chillingly familiar. "You're mine…"

_Ginny, you're mine._

_No. Stop. Please, Tom, you're scaring me._

And suddenly, Ginny could see again. She could see where she was and what she was doing.

She struggled to get her hands between Draco and herself. She planted them firmly on Draco's chest and shoved him with all her strength. He went stumbling back into the shelf and several bottles crashed to the ground.

"What the hell?" Draco exclaimed, looking at her in shock.

Ginny didn't take time to catch her breath. She grabbed her bag, ripped open the closet door and stormed through it, ignoring Draco's voice calling her name.

She pelted down the corridors, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. She reached the Fat Lady, who was now back in her portrait. Ginny gave her the password and pushed through the portrait hole, sprinting through the empty common room and up to her dormitory. The girls in her dorm were all, mercifully, asleep.

She sank down on her own bed, shaking hard and trying to catch her breath. Slowly, she kicked off her shoes and closed the curtains on her bed. Then she lay down, breathing deeply and trying to slow her racing heartbeat. Tears streamed down her face, soaking her pillow and she felt sick to her stomach.

She could still feel Draco's lips on hers, could remember the dizzying, intoxicating feeling of knowing that he wanted her. She might be able to fool her friends, but she couldn't fool herself (or Draco, apparently.) She wanted him, and he knew it. Guilt overcame her as Dean's face swam before her eyes. How could she do this to him? Dean was a wonderful person, and a great boyfriend. He treated her well, made her feel happy, stood up for her when people insulted her…

But not once had he ever made her world spin out of control, made her dizzy with intoxication, made her heart ache with desire. Only once before had anyone made her feel that way. Until now, she'd thought she would never feel that way again, that no one else was capable of doing that to her.

_Ginny, you're mine._

_No. Stop. Please, Tom, you're scaring me._

_You can't hide from me, Ginny. I know who you are. You love me._

_I do._

_You're frightened of me._

_Yes._

_You should be._

References:

1) "His smile was awfully cute-, no. It's not cute. It's annoying. I'm annoyed." – _Buffy_

18


	3. Chapter 3

Where the Wild Things Are

Chapter 3

Harry, Ron and Ginny were all running rather late when they arrived in the hospital wing for their final session. It was the last day of the Career Fair, and the three of them were attending a session run by a Healer from St. Mungo's. Dean was going to a Muggle Relations session, and Hermione, to no one's surprise, was going to some session about libraries. She and Ron had taken a long time saying goodbye to each other in the Great Hall, and thus they were all a little behind schedule.

To be honest, Harry was feeling a little annoyed with Ron and Hermione, though he knew he was being irrational. He'd been honest with them yesterday at lunch, he was happy for them. He'd always been rather amused, and a little exasperated, at their blatant refusal to acknowledge their feelings for each other, and it really was about time they did something about it. But he couldn't help feeling that their getting together would mean that he would be left out of things a good deal more now. Perhaps he was just lonely himself.

No one else seemed to share his feelings though. Dean and the other boys in their dorm all found the whole thing terrifically funny, and teased Ron mercilessly. Lavender and Parvati came over extremely giggly whenever they passed Ron or Hermione, so Harry assumed that Hermione had told them. Then again, Lavender and Parvati giggled about almost everything.

And Ginny… Well, actually, Ginny did seem extremely upset today. She'd been pleasant enough to Ron and Hermione though, so Harry assumed that something else was bothering her. She got extremely jumpy and dropped whatever she was holding whenever anyone spoke to her, so Harry figured it was best to leave her alone.

Entering the hospital wing, Harry saw that it had been transformed into a kind of classroom. As there weren't any patients at the moment, all the beds had been pushed to the back of the room, and a lot of chairs had been set up in their place. Students filled about half of them, most of them sitting near the front. A pleasant-faced, brown-haired witch wearing lime-green Healer robes and owl-eye spectacles was standing in front and speaking to the students. Like all of the Career Fair guests, she had a nametag fixed to her robes, which read _Diana Inle_.

"Come on," Ron whispered. "Let's just sit in the back some place."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the sunny voice of the lime-clad healer called to them from the front of the room.

"Come on up front, join us," she said. "Mr. Potter, isn't it? And you'd be Mr and Miss Weasley?"

Ron looked surprised, and glanced at Harry, but Harry just shrugged.

"Yeah, sorry we're late," Harry said, and made his way to some empty seats in the fourth row.

"Not a problem," she replied, smiling widely at them. "I was just telling everyone about the NEWT requirements for becoming a Healer."

The session wasn't particularly relevant for either Harry or Ron, as neither of them wished to be healers. It was Ginny who was more specifically interested in the field of healing (and the only one with the grades to really achieve it) and when they'd been deciding their schedules she had asked Ron and Harry to come along so she wouldn't be alone. This morning Ron had wanted to tag along with Hermione to the library instead, but Hermione had flatly rejected this idea, reminding Ron that he had promised Ginny he'd accompany her.

The session turned out to be rather interesting, though. Diana Inle first went through the grade expectations and post-graduate testing that was required, and related how she'd been so nervous during her first test that she'd written 'I am a fish' one hundred times and fainted on her way out the door. She then went on to describe daily routine at St. Mungo's hospital, telling them funny stories about the often-bizarre cases that regularly came through the different wards. By the end of the session, nearly everyone was pink from laughing and in high spirits.

"Oh, there's the bell for lunch," Diana was saying. "Thanks so much, all of you. Hopefully I'll see you at St. Mungo's in a couple of years."

Everyone got up headed for the door.

"Oh, Mr. Potter," Diana called to him, "could you stay behind a moment?"

Harry looked at Ron and Ginny questioningly. Ginny wasn't paying attention, and Ron just shrugged.

"Got me, mate," he said. "We can wait if you like, though. That okay with you, Gin?"

"Hmm?" she said vaguely, and then turned to look at them. "I'm fine."

Ron raised his eyebrows at her.

"Don't worry about it," Harry told them. "Go ahead to lunch, I'll see you there."

Ron nodded and headed out the door, dragging Ginny along behind him.

Harry walked to the front of the room where Diana was packing up the various papers and things she'd brought with her.

"Yes?" Harry said, a little apprehensively.

"Relax, Harry," she said with a smile. "You're not in trouble. I just wanted to give you this," she put something into his hand.

It was a letter, at least two sheets of parchment, closed with a seal depicting a crescent moon.

"It's from Remus," she said. Harry looked up at her in surprise. "He felt it would be safer if I delivered it to you, rather than sending it by owl."

"How do you know Professor Lupin?"

To Harry's surprise, Diana looked away, blushing slightly. "We work together."

"Work together? But he doesn't work at St. Mungo's, how do--" And then it hit him. Oh, of course.

"Oh, you work for the Ord--"

"Shh--" she said quickly, looking around them. "Yes. Now, you're spending your Christmas holidays with the Weasleys, are you not?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Normally I'd spend them with Sirius, but…" he trailed off.

Diana smiled at him kindly. "Yes. Yes, Remus normally would have spent his holidays with Sirius as well." She paused, looking for a moment as if she wanted talk about Sirius some more. She apparently thought better of it though, and Harry was glad. "Well, if you're staying at The Burrow, then I should be seeing you soon. You should go off to lunch now, Harry, your friends will be wondering where you are."

Harry turned and headed for the door. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.

"Thanks," he said, "for the letter."

Diana smiled again and nodded. "See you soon, Harry."

Ron kept an eye out for Hermione from the moment he left the hospital wing until he arrived in the Great Hall for lunch. He scanned the Gryffindor table. Dean was already there, chatting with Seamus about something or other. Neville had obviously been at his Herbology session; he was covered in dirt and looking very happy.

And there was Hermione. Her book bag was on the bench beside her, saving a spot for him. Her hair was up now, tangled into a messy bun. She was absorbed in a brochure, not even aware that he was watching her. He smiled. That was his girl, right there. He came up quietly behind her, reached around and covered her eyes with his hands.

"Guess who?" he said.

"Ron?" she guessed, half giggling. Darn. Well, that's hardly any fun.

"Well… yeah, but keep guessing anyway."

"Umm… what about 'Ron'?"

Ron sighed and sat down next to her. "You're no fun."

Hermione smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then went back to her brochure. Ron started helping himself to chips.

"How was your session?" Hermione asked vaguely.

"Good, actually. I still don't want to be a healer, though. No way am I doing NEWT-level Potions with Snape. It was interesting anyway, though. How about you? What was your session again?"

Hermione put her brochure down and started in on her fish. "The International Magical Library Network, and not great, actually. It was mostly full of Slytherins who looked at me like I was Blast-Ended Skrewt. And the Librarian they had running the session was worse than Professor Binns. I've never heard anyone so monotone in my life. I didn't think it was _possible_ to make Libraries sound boring…"

Ron grinned. "Not to you, maybe," he muttered.

Hermione didn't appear to have heard him, though. "This brochure is quite interesting though, they were given out at the end of the session. Did you know that all the libraries in the wizarding world are connected to each other? Apparently only the Librarians and people who work in the Network know how to move from one to another. I'm going to go back to the library this afternoon and read up on the Library Network, see if I can find out more about it. It's really very fascinating."

She put the brochure back in her bag and then looked up at Ron, who was grinning at her.

"What?"

Ron looked away, trying to hide his amusement. She was really quite adorable when she got like this. "Nothing."

"Ron…"

"No, really, Hermione, it's nothing. I just think it's funny how you--"

"No, Ron," she interrupted. "Where are Ginny and Harry?"

Dean looked over from his conversation with Seamus.

"Oh," Ron said. "The St. Mungo's Healer asked Harry to stay behind a minute, he said he'd be along."

"And Ginny stayed with him?" Hermione asked.

"No," said Ron, "she's right--" he looked around. Ginny had been right behind him all the way down from the hospital wing. Or, rather, he had assumed that she'd been right behind him. He'd been so busy looking for Hermione that he hadn't noticed Ginny much at all, actually. Now he thought of it though, he didn't remember seeing her since they'd left the Infirmary.

"That's odd. She was right behind me."

"Maybe she went to the loo," Dean suggested.

Hermione grinned and looked at Dean pointedly. "Maybe she's off in a _closet_ somewhere."

Ron scowled.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said, grinning at Ron defiantly. "Closets are good fun."

Ginny trailed slowly after Ron, a good few feet behind him. He was scanning the crowds in the corridor, presumably looking for Hermione, (which Ginny would have found actually quite adorable, if she hadn't had her mind on other things.)

After hours of crying into her pillow and fighting back nausea, she'd finally fallen asleep, only to be awoken by the morning bell soon thereafter. She'd been feeling extremely ill all morning, and even considered skipping her session and hiding in her dormitory. But everyone had known how much she'd been looking forward to the St. Mungo's session, and if she hadn't gone, they would definitely have suspected something.

So she'd gone to the session, though she'd gotten little enjoyment out of it. She had, instead, spent the time going over the events of the previous evening. She hoped no one would ask her about what they did during the session. She wasn't sure she could even recall the presenter's name.

Abruptly, a hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed Ginny's wrist, pulling her sharply to the side. Before she could react, she found herself in small, confined space filled with brooms and cleaning potions.

Oh no, not here. This was, with the possible exception of the Chamber of Secrets, the very last place on Earth she wanted to be.

Well, no, actually, right at the moment, she thought she just might prefer the Chamber.

"Hey there, Weasley."

A dim light was illuminating the closet, and Ginny could just make out Draco's pale features. He looked beautiful, and obviously hadn't lost any sleep over their time together the previous night. She shook her head and ignored her suddenly racing heartbeat. She tried to push past him to get to the door, but he stepped in front of her.

"Oh, come on," he said. "You ran off so fast last night, I didn't get to finish saying what I wanted to say."

Ginny glared at him. "I don't want to hear it. Let me past."

"Well that's quite the change of tune, don't you think?" He grinned and stepped toward her. "Not the impression you gave last night."

She stepped back, trying desperately to get some space between them. She felt the shelf at her back, and heard a few bottles tinkle together ominously. "Leave me alone, Malfoy, I mean it."

He stepped closer. "No you don't."

Ginny's mind raced. She had to get out of here now, while she still had the strength of will to do it. "I do too. I'm serious, Malfoy, stay away from me."

He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, then caressed her cheek with his fingertips. Ginny shivered and jerked her face away from his hand, hitting her head on the shelf behind her.

"Ow! Shit!"

"Shh," he said, and Ginny could see his amused smile. "Be quiet, Ginny. Someone will hear us."

Ginny backed away from him until her back hit the wall opposite the door. "Don't do that," she said, feeling her emotions bubbling to the surface. "Don't say my name like we're friends. We're not _friends_, Malfoy. You're the slimiest, cruellest, most disgusting little ferret I've ever met, and, and…" she was losing steam now, " and I never really liked you anyway, and… you have stupid hair."

Draco's grin widened and he put a hand over his heart. "Ah, Weasley, hit me where it hurts." He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them. He combed his fingers through her hair and she shivered again. She could feel her resolve rapidly disappearing through the cracks.

"Why are you doing this to me, Draco?"

Draco looked surprised. "I thought it was quite obvious."

"It's not," she said firmly. "You never act like this. You're always mean and crude and… evil. What are you up to?"

He rested his hand on the wall above her and leaned toward her slightly. "Well that's being rather hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What?"

"You don't think it's hypocritical?" he said. "All of a sudden, you can want me, but I can't want you?"

Ginny's mind went blank. He'd said it. He'd actually said it. He'd actually _told_ her that he wanted her. Well, sort of.

"I… you…" She felt her face growing hot. "That's _so_ not what-- I… do _not_…"

He took a gentle, but firm hold of her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Come on, Weasley. Let's not play games here."

"I…" her voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Please, Draco…"

He bent his head and brushed his lips gently against hers, and she thought for a moment that her heart had actually stopped beating.

He was kissing her. He was kissing her, and she was letting him. She let her mind go blissfully blank, ignoring the screaming guilt in the back of her brain. She just let herself enjoy the feel of his lips on hers, his hands in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in deeply. He smelled like frosted salt water and black pepper and, unexpectedly, citrus.

She shouldn't be doing this. But it felt so perfect, so treacherously familiar. Dean had never made her feel this way…

Oh God, Dean.

Ginny let go of Draco and pushed him away from her. "I can't be here," she muttered. She moved passed him, reaching for the door handle.

"Hey, wait." He grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"Draco, please. Just let me go."

He held her hands firmly at her side and landed a soft kiss on her lips. "What if I can't?" he whispered.

Ginny backed against the door, a welcome barrier against the rest of the world, and Draco came with her. He was still holding her hands, planting gentle kisses along her neck and jaw. She didn't think she could do this. She didn't think she could leave.

But, Dean…

No, that's it. This ends, right here. She leaned away from him and steeled herself, forcing the words out of her mouth. "I… I have to go, Draco. Let me go. Now."

"Come back tonight."

"What?" Oh, come on. This was hardly fair. She was just getting up her will power again.

"Meet me here later," he said. "After curfew, meet me here. Please."

Ginny hesitated, looking him in the eyes. No, don't look him in the eyes; you lose all your resolve when you look in those eyes. Look at… yes, that dirty, scummy bucket. Look at that. Very good. Now say it…

"Goodbye, Draco."

She turned around, opened the closet door and shut it behind her.

There. Perfect. Easy as pie. Now that's over with, you can get back to normal life, and forget it ever happened. Just forget about him.

Draco waited patiently in the broom closet, sitting comfortably on an upturned wash-bucket. There was a knock on the closet door. He glanced at his watch in the dim light that his wand afforded him. Twenty minutes past curfew.

Right on schedule.

He opened the door, and there was Ginny. Her hair was pulled up in a neat ponytail and she was blushing furiously. She was really very beautiful, when she wasn't constantly scowling at him. Her eyes were a very deep and cheerful shade of brown, reminding him of warmth and summertime.

"I'm… I'm not here to… Well, I just came to tell you that…" she trailed off then, and just stood silently in the doorway.

Draco smiled at her. In one fluid movement, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms, crushing her mouth with his own. He pushed her against the door, closing it with a bang as he did, and slid his arms around her waist.

"I knew you'd come," he whispered into her mouth.

"How?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting herself up on her tiptoes.

He pulled back and grinned at her, trailing a finger across her collarbone, and she shivered slightly at his touch.

"Because you want me as much as I want you."

She narrowed her eyebrows at him and shook her head. "You're evil, do you know that?"

He kissed her again, smiling. "Of course I do." He slid his hands down her back and held her firmly in his grip. "I'm also right." He moved his kisses down to her neck, enjoying how she shivered with every touch of his lips.

"No you're not," she murmured. "You're wrong, Malfoy. Everything about you is wrong." She gasped a little when his teeth raked her jaw line.

"Well, yeah," he muttered. "That's what you love about me, isn't it?"

She pulled away from him and looked him straight in the eye.

"You're a dangerous person, Draco."

He stayed silent, giving her time to continue, but she didn't say anything else.

"Is that a problem for you?" he asked.

She stayed silent for a moment longer, and then looked away, shaking her head. "I really have to get over this whole 'evil Slytherin' thing…"

Draco grinned. He hoisted her up into his arms, leaning her against the door, and she wrapped her legs around his waist for support.

"When you do, let me know," he whispered. "Until then, though…"

And this time, she kissed him, combing her fingers through his hair and opening her mouth in welcome.

"Where the hell have you been, Draco? It's nearly three-thirty in the morning."

Pansy was standing in the middle of the Slytherin common room, her arms crossed firmly across her chest.

Draco sighed. He should have expected that Pansy would wait up for him. "I was making out with a Gryffindor girl in a broom closet," he said.

"Fine, don't tell me!" Pansy stamped the floor with her foot like an insolent child. "But don't expect me to come to your room any more, Draco." She then turned and stormed off to the girls' dormitories.

Draco grinned. What was it people said about the Truth? It will get you out of tight spots with your girlfriend? Or something like that.

He headed down the steps to his own dorm, grateful to see that the other boys were all asleep.

He hadn't gotten too far with Ginny tonight, at least not in terms of valuable information. But she had come to him, and that was a start at least.

She had said one thing, though, that caught his attention. He hadn't commented on it, but made note of it to ask her later, when he'd gained her trust a little more.

"_I really have to get over this whole 'evil Slytherin' thing…"_

Draco didn't know which evil Slytherin she might be referring to, (there were rather a lot of them,) but it was definitely worth investigating.

He took out his book bag and retrieved the brochure that he'd received during his session that morning. He tapped it with his wand and said "Draco Malfoy."

After a second of nothing, slowly the information on the International Magical Library Network began to disappear. Within moments, the page was blank, but not for long. As if written by an invisible hand, elegant handwriting began to appear.

_Draco,_

_What have you to report?_

Draco took out a quill and dipped it in ink, paused for a moment, and then wrote:

_I may have found a way to infiltrate Potter's gang. A girl. Father, you told me to keep an eye on them. What do you need me to find out?_

He waited while his words disappeared into the parchment, and after a moment, his father's reply came through.

_Our Master has requested that you find out where Potter will be staying over the holidays. _

Draco thought for a moment before replying.

_Potter usually stays at Hogwarts. That's probably where he'll be again this year._

When his father's answer came through, Draco could almost hear his stern, angry tone of voice.

_I did not ask you what he usually does. What good is it to the Dark Lord to know what Potter _usually_ does? Find out, with certainty, where he will be _this_ year. _

_Yes, Father, _Draco wrote.

_When you join us here, our Master has requested that you officially join our ranks. He has great expectations of you. This is a great honour, Draco. I know you will not disappoint me._

Draco gritted his teeth. He hated when his father spoke to him this way, as if all he ever did was go around trying to embarrass the family. As if everything he did was not an attempt to impress his father. He took a deep, calming breath before replying.

_Of course, Father. Thank you._

There was no reply. Instead, the parchment was wiped blank and the Library Network information appeared once more.

Draco put the parchment away and sat quietly on his bed for a long time, thinking about what awaited him when he arrived at Headquarters. He didn't know what Death Eater Initiation entailed, but it probably wasn't pleasant. Perhaps he would have to cut off a limb or something, like that Wormtail had. Or perhaps he would be asked to perform the Cruciatus Curse on some muggles. His mother had never let him watch on the occasions when his father had done it, but he didn't suppose it would be terribly hard.

It didn't matter, though. Whatever it was, he would do it. He would do whatever it took to show his father that he was not weak, to make him see where his loyalty lay.

It was extremely late when Ron and Hermione finally stumbled through the portrait hole that night, Hermione's ears still ringing with the Fat Lady's reprimand. The common room was rather a mess, with books, papers and the odd stray jumper lying about. Harry was sitting by himself on a couch by the fire, reading what appeared to be a letter.

"Where have you two been?" Harry asked, not looking up from his letter.

Ron grinned sheepishly and turned bright red, which Hermione couldn't help but find adorable. "We… we were just…" Ron stammered.

"Studying," Hermione finished for him, also grinning like a mad troll.

"Studying," Harry repeated. He nodded. "Right. Well, I hear the Astronomy Tower's a good place for late-night… 'studying'… Was there a good view tonight?"

Ron went redder still and mumbled something unintelligible. "'Night Hermione," he said, and gave her a quick kiss before heading for the stairs. "'Night Harry," he called over his shoulder, and disappeared up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said, and made for her own dorm, when she paused at the foot the stairs and turned back. "Harry, aren't you going to bed? Why are you still up, anyway?"

Harry held up the sheets of parchment in his hand. "I got a letter from Professor Lupin."

"Really?" She hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room and sat down next to Harry. "What does he have to say? Is something wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "No, everything's fine." He put the letter in his bag and leaned forward, staring intently into dying fire. "He was mostly talking about Christmas holidays. He said he'd be joining us at the Burrow on Christmas Eve, stuff like that."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously; she wasn't buying it. He was avoiding her gaze, which he always did when he was hiding something. His eyes were shining in the fire light, bright with unshed tears.

"What else did he say?" she asked gently, trying not to push him.

Harry shrugged, still concentrating on the fire. "Just, you know, telling me how he is, a few things about Sirius, that's all…"

Oh, of course. Harry had avoided talking about Sirius's death, changing the subject or simply leaving the room whenever it came up. As far as she could tell, he hadn't really spoken with anyone about it much at all.

Hermione reached out and placed her hand gently over his. "I'm sorry, Harry. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head, and a tear splashed down his cheek.

"Hey…" Hermione said softly. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him, but he still wouldn't meet her eye. "You don't have to be so strong all the time, you know."

Harry wiped his cheek dry. "I'm fine, Hermione, honestly. I'm just tired, is all." He started to get up, but she held his hand firmly and pulled him back down onto the couch. No way was he getting off that easy.

"Come on, Harry," she said softly. "It's me."

Finally he looked up at her. She smiled encouragingly at him, and he smiled weakly back.

"I really am okay, Hermione," he said, and looked away again.

"No, you're not," she said quietly. "You loved Sirius. You're allowed to cry for him. You're _meant_ to cry for him. I would be worried about you if you didn't. He was your family, Harry… your only real family now. Of course you're not okay."

Harry sat for a long time with his eyes closed, silent tears flowing steadily down his cheeks. The minutes ticked by on the grandfather clock, until it chimed the hour. Three o' clock. And still Hermione sat there, holding his hand in hers and waiting.

"No," Harry said finally, and Hermione almost jumped as his hoarse voice cut through the stillness.

"'No'?" she asked, uncomprehending. "'No' what?"

"Sirius wasn't my only real family."

Hermione scoffed. "Well, I would hardly call the Dursleys 'family', Harry."

"Neither would I," Harry said, and squeezed her hand gently. "That's not who I'm talking about." He turned to look at her, finally meeting her eye.

Hermione felt a warmth spread through her, as if she'd just swallowed a lot of Butterbeer or chocolate. She squeezed his hand more tightly in return and smiled warmly at him.

"Hermione…" Harry started, and looked away again. She couldn't quite tell in the near-darkness of the common room, but she thought he might have been blushing. "Hermione, have I… have I ever told you--"

Hermione reached up and gently wiped his face dry with her hand. "You don't have to, Harry. I know. Ron and I both do."

Harry nodded. "Good." He took in a deep breath and let it slowly. Perhaps Hermione was imagining it, but he looked lighter somehow, as if a heavy load had just been lifted.

"You should go off to bed, Harry," she said, squeezing his hand once more before standing up.

"What about you?"

Hermione smiled. "I'll head up in a minute, I'm just going to clean up here a bit first. You know, 'prefect duties' and all."

Harry nodded and smiled. "Sure," he said, and headed for the staircase. He paused at the base of the stairs and turned back a moment. "Thanks, Hermione. Really."

Hermione just nodded, and then turned away, picking up textbooks and piling them on the table. When she turned around, Harry had gone upstairs. She felt unaccountably light-headed, and figured that she must be more tired than she'd thought.

She was just finishing folding students' jumpers when the portrait hole opened and in came Ginny, looking more than a little dishevelled, like she had just gotten off her broom.

"Ginny?" She glanced at the clock. "Lord, it's nearly three-thirty, Ginny, where have you been?"

Ginny turned nearly as red as Ron had done and hurried passed Hermione to the stairs. "I was studying," she said. "I fell asleep."

"Well, why didn't Madam Pince wake you up when the library closed? I mean, she should have chucked you out hours ago-,"

"I wasn't in the library. I was… I was up in the Astronomy Tower. There's a really nice moon out tonight, and I had some Astronomy homework to do so--"

"But," Hermione interrupted, "Ron and I were up there until about half an hour ago. We didn't see you."

Ginny stopped in her tracks, looking horrified. "Really?" she said. She was obviously doing some very fast thinking.

Good heavens, thought Hermione. What on earth is going on here?

"Well, we probably were on opposite sides of the Tower," started Ginny, "and missed each other. I mean, being with Ron, you were probably pretty preoccupied, Hermione…"

Hermione felt her cheeks go hot. It's not as though she and Ron and had spent the entire time locked to each other's lips, for heavens' sake. They'd sat for a long time, just watching the moon and talking. Yes okay, true, there _had_ been times when they were a little preoccupied… But not so much so that she wouldn't have noticed Ginny being there. And the tower wasn't really that big, she doubted very much that she'd have missed Ginny's presence.

She could hardly say this to Ginny though. It would put her on the defensive, to start with, and when Ginny got defensive, she got downright unpleasant. Besides, if Hermione lost Ginny's confidence now, she'd probably never find out what was going on.

Hermione shrugged. "You're probably right. Well, goodnight, Ginny."

Ginny turned around and practically ran up the steps to her dormitory.

Studying in the Astronomy Tower? The same kind of 'studying' she and Ron had been doing? But no, Dean hadn't been with her. Though, truth be told, Ginny had been awfully strange around Dean for the last month. Ginny probably thought she hadn't noticed, but she'd been acting very shifty and uncomfortable whenever Dean showed her any real affection, at least in public, and she'd become very prone to dropping things at odd moments. In fact, it was the same kind of behaviour she'd always exhibited around Harry when she'd had a crush on him. Only it didn't seem to be Harry this time around, and it certainly wasn't Dean.

Hermione thought back to all the instances she'd seen Ginny acting strangely or suddenly uncomfortable, thinking over who had been present.

Well… there did seem to be _one_ common denominator. One person who was either present, or being talked about, in every instance. But… No, that was just ludicrous. And there's no way that Ginny would ever…

No, this is a horrible thing to even think, Ginny would never do that to Dean.

So then what could have kept her out of Gryffindor Tower until Three-Thirty in the morning?

The following weeks that lead up to Christmas holidays were at once the most exhilarating and most horrific of Ginny's memory. Draco would pull her out of the hallways into spare closets or hidden, confined spaces at every opportunity. Every night she left him with the assurance that she would not be coming back, that it was over. And every night he smirked, nodded, and told her he'd see her tomorrow.

The first few times that she'd left Gryffindor Tower and made her way to their closet (funny how she considered it 'their' closet now) she'd told herself firmly that she was only going so she could tell him that it was over, that she'd never see him again. Halfway through the second week, she'd given up pretending that she was doing anything less than cheating on Dean. She thought sometimes that she should break up with Dean, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. He would ask her why, ask her if there was someone else, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to hide from him who it was that had replaced him. She was having a hard enough time admitting to herself her feelings for Draco, she didn't think she could bare to speak them allowed, and certainly not to Dean.

It made her sick to her stomach to think of it, but she couldn't stop. Every time Draco pulled her into some stray closet, she would try to pull away and leave. It didn't work. Somehow, when she was with him, she lost all ability to think clearly or be objective. The air around her became muffled, as if someone were holding a pillow across her face, blocking out all sound and oxygen, all sensations but him. Somewhere, deep down, she knew that Draco was dangerous, that he would be her downfall. And somewhere, deeper down, she knew that she wanted him to be.

Not that Draco didn't have his moments of sweetness or gentleness. Ginny had been shocked to find that she felt perfectly at ease speaking to him about almost anything. She'd even confided in him about what Tom had done to her. Ginny's involvement in the Basilisk attacks of her first year had been kept fairly secret from the rest of the school, and Draco had been surprised to learn the truth of what had happened. But he'd listened thoughtfully, and comforted her when she cried. After only two weeks in his company, she felt that he knew her better than any of her friends or family. He could understand her in a way that no one else could, certainly in a way that Dean never could. Dean was too sweet, too innocent, to comprehend the growing darkness that had resided in her since her possession by Tom Riddle.

It was late now. She was sitting next to Draco, on the floor of their closet, her head resting on his shoulder.

"What are you doing for Christmas holidays?" she asked, sliding her hand into his.

"Going home," Draco said, and began tracing indiscernible designs on the back of her hand, sending goose bumps up her arms. "I always go home."

"You didn't in your second year."

Draco grinned at her. "Don't miss much, do you?"

"Never." Ginny waited for him to tell her why he hadn't gone home, but he didn't say anything. He didn't talk much about his parents or his home, and Ginny felt it best not to press him.

"What about you?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Same, going home."

"Where's home?" Draco asked idly.

"Ottery St Catchpole, just outside the village," Ginny answered. "It's going to be a mad house this year, actually. All of my brothers are going to be home, except Percy," she added darkly. Percy had still refused to come home, or have anything to do with his family. Ginny rolled her eyes at the thought of him, and then continued. "Harry will be with us too of course, and Hermione's bringing her parents to visit. And then there will be a lot of people in and out from the Ord--" Ginny stopped herself just in time.

"The 'Ord'?" Draco asked.

"The Board," Ginny said quickly. "People that Dad works with…"

Draco nodded, and left it at that. Ginny wasn't sure he'd bought it, but there was nothing she could do now.

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"Tomorrow, along with everyone else," she answered. "Funny how fast this month has gone, don't you think?"

Draco grinned again, and lifted her face up to look at him. "Yes, well, we've been keeping busy…"

Ginny blushed and tried to look away, but he held her face firmly in his hand and leaned toward her. She fell comfortably into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself into his lap.

For a blissful few moments, Ginny's mind went blank, as she was so used to it doing these days, and she revelled in the sensation of drowning, of being on fire.

"I'll come see you," Draco murmured, "over the holidays."

Ginny smiled, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. It took a moment for what he'd said to sink in, and she abruptly broke off their kiss, filled with a sudden horror.

"No, you can't!" she said, trying to restrain the near-hysteria in her voice. He couldn't come see her. The Burrow was doubling as Headquarters for the Order. Ginny didn't even want to think about what might happen if Draco tried to visit her there.

"Why the hell not?" he asked, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

"Well…" Ginny thought quickly. "Well, because you'll be seen, Draco. There's going to be so many people in our house, there's no way you could get in or out without being seen."

"So what?" he said, looking her sternly in the eye. "The risk of being seen hasn't stopped me yet, I don't see why it should make any difference now."

Ginny felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. This wasn't working; he was really going to show up at The Burrow one night. No. No, he couldn't. She had to convince him.

"Look, I appreciate the gesture, but you can't come. I have obligations and… and responsibilities to people…"

Draco smirked. "What, like the obligation you had to be in Charms class yesterday? Didn't seem to stop you from staying with me then."

This was getting out of hand. "Draco, I'm serious," she said firmly. "You _can't_ come see me. You just can't. You won't be able to get in, anyway, there are wards up all over the house--" Whoops. "Umm, because of You-Know-Who and all," she lied. "After he came back, Mum and Dad had wards put up all over the place."

Draco shrugged. "I could probably get around those easy," he said, smiling up at her. "Honestly, Weasley, do you really think a couple of enchantments could keep me from you?" He leaned forward to kiss her again, but Ginny pulled back, nearing hysteria.

"No! Just forget it, Draco, you're not coming, and that's that. I won't see you. If you show up, I'll… I'll set the dogs on you."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "You have dogs?"

"Yes," she lied. "For nosy boys who don't know when to back off."

Draco laughed and pulled her lips down to his, effectively derailing Ginny's train of desperate thought.

"All right, you win," he whispered into her mouth. "But when term starts up again," he said, "you and I will have some serious time to make up for."

Ginny blushed and smiled, letting out a breath of relief. "Okay," she whispered back, "it's a deal." She relaxed into his arms as he tightened them around her body and allowed him to lay her back against the dusty rags as he covered her mouth with his own, kissing her with his usual intensity.

Ginny quickly found it hard to breathe, lying crushed and buried beneath Draco. She felt a momentary stab panic, as she had many times before, and gasped for breath, desperate for oxygen but unable to push him away. Oh god, she thought, I'm really going to die here. _Here Lies Ginny Weasley, Brutally Kissed to Death in a Broom Closet. _ He kissed her fiercely, bruising her mouth with his own. He was hurting her again, but she was oblivious to the pain, to anything but Draco and her ever growing need for him.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in, thinking how she would miss his frosty, citrus-y scent. Thinking how she had no right to miss it.

The Entrance Hall was in the midst of the usual holiday chaos as everyone prepared to leave Hogwarts for Christmas. The older students, used to the routine by now, were bringing their trunks to the front to be loaded onto carriages. Prefects were milling about between the younger students, showing them where to go and confiscating the odd dungbomb or firework.

Draco was leaning comfortably against the wall while Pansy, who had apparently forgiven him, prattled away about some brainless activity that she and her friends were doing for Christmas. As per usual, Draco wasn't listening to her (he found that nodding and mumbling 'yeah' at appropriate pauses seemed to keep her happy enough.)

He was, instead, keeping himself occupied by watching Ginny. She and Hermione were helping a group of first years to the front doors. Peeves, who'd managed to get hold of some of the confiscated dungbombs, was chasing the young students across the hall, calling them names and making one or two very rude gestures.

"Peeves," said Hermione warningly. "Am I going to have to call the Headmaster?"

Peeves blew a raspberry and chucked another dungbomb at her, which she only just managed to dodge. The Hufflepuff bloke behind her wasn't so lucky.

"Peeves!" Ginny scolded, stepping forward and pulling out her wand. Oddly, Peeves stopped and fell silent. Ever since the previous year, Peeves had given uncharacteristic amounts of respect to members of the Weasley family. "Cut it out, will you?" Ginny said, her hands on her hips.

"But ickle firsties need to be kept on their toes!" Peeves said, grinning wickedly. He grabbed hold of a first year boy's trunk and swung it up into the air. It fell to the ground with a sickening crunch, and the boy's belongings were scattered everywhere.

Ginny frowned. "If you don't cut it out, I'll tell my brothers," she warned.

Peeves heaved a dramatic sigh, chucked the rest of the dungbombs at a passing group of second year girls and disappeared through the opposite wall.

Ginny rolled her eyes and started helping the first year boy collect his belongings and put them back into his trunk.

Draco looked her up and down, taking advantage of her distraction to really admire every curve of her body. He noticed, with an inward smirk of satisfaction, that she had taken to wearing her Gryffindor scarf around her neck almost full time now. Her flaming hair was swept up today, a few curling tendrils of fire falling gently around her ears and the nape of her neck. She paused, apparently sensing that she was being watched, and turned to look at Draco.

He grinned cheekily at her. She blushed a little and looked away, helping the boy upright his trunk and pointing him towards the front entrance. She then walked off to join Harry and Dean by the door without a backward glance.

Draco hardly noticed that his brow furrowed when Dean put his arm around Ginny and began whispering something in her ear. He clenched his teeth and folded his arms tightly across his chest. For a moment he indulged in fantasizing about pulling out his wand and hexing Dean into oblivion, until he realised with a jolt that he was feeling jealous. He shook his head, perhaps hoping to shake the feeling out of him. Malfoys didn't _get _jealous. And besides, this was only the Weasley girl. It's not as if he _fancied_ her or anything. She was a means to an end. Sure, he'd enjoyed their secret trysts together and all, but that was from a purely hormonal point of view. Wasn't it? Of course, that would be it. Teenage hormones were bound to make him territorial of Ginny. It was nothing that a good shag with somebody else wouldn't cure. Draco contented himself with the thought that at least he hadn't actually shagged Ginny. After all, if a few make-out sessions could make him feel this way, there was no telling how he'd feel if he'd actually slept with her.

He was so lost in thought that it wasn't until Pansy spoke up that he realised Hermione Granger was standing at his shoulder, scowling at him.

"What do _you_ want, you filthy mudblood?" Pansy said scornfully.

"I'd like to speak to Malfoy…" she paused, then turned to glare at Pansy. "As in 'alone'."

"Well, tough," Pansy said back, stepping forward.

"Don't you have an elsewhere to be?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not going-," she started, but Draco stepped forward, interrupting her.

"It's fine, Pansy."

Pansy turned to look at Draco. "What? Draco--"

"I said it's fine. Now shove off."

Pansy let out a breath of indignation, stamping her foot on the stones. She turned on her heel and stormed off to join her girly Slytherin mates, and Draco turned to look at Hermione.

"So?" he prompted.

Hermione crossed her arms firmly across her chest. "I don't know exactly what's going on here," she started, obviously reciting from a speech she'd rehearsed a few times, "but I know _something's_ going on. I'm not an idiot."

Draco smirked. Oh, come on, she really was just _asking_ for it… "Well I don't know about tha--" he started, but she rolled her eyes and snorted in disgust.

"Oh, shut up," she said. "Just stay away from my friends, Malfoy. I don't know what you're up to, but I know it's not good. You're going to hurt her, and probably a lot of other people too, and I won't allow it. Just leave her alone."

And with that, she turned and stormed away, joining Ernie Macmillan in telling off some second years for throwing spitballs at the first years.

So, Granger had clued in, had she? Draco couldn't feel too surprised at this. Subtlety wasn't exactly Ginny's forte. Really, Draco was more surprised that the rest of Ginny's friends hadn't caught on yet.

Oh well. Soon the need for real secrecy would be over, and it wouldn't matter either way. He was sorry that he wouldn't be around to see the look on Dean Thomas's face when he found out, but that was a pleasure he would just have to forgo.

Draco told himself that he could content himself with the injured, betrayed look that would be on Ginny's face, but somehow that thought didn't inspire the anticipation that he felt it should.

He had imagined the scenario more times than he could count. Her mouth would drop open, and she would cover it with her hand. She would blush, her ears and cheeks turning that pleasant shade of pink that became her so well. Tears would well in her deep brown eyes and stream down her face. She would call him by his first name, her voice would be quiet with shock and disbelief.

It took him a moment to identify the feeling welling inside him as guilt. He was feeling guilty. He shook his head angrily, trying to ignore the nagging discomfort at the back of his mind. Draco wasn't very experienced in feeling guilty; his father had strictly forbid him to feel anything of the sort. His mantra had always been '_Never apologise, never explain.'_ If Malfoys didn't get jealous, they most certainly didn't feel guilty. And yet here he was, staring at Ginny and feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of the look on her face in one week's time.

He shook his head again, trying to snap himself out of it. What was _wrong_ with him today? It must have been something he ate. He was being ridiculous. It was just a stupid infatuation, which a few weeks' distance, and maybe a good snog with someone else, would cure just fine.

"Are you going to apologise to me?" came Pansy's voice. She was standing at his elbow, her arms crossed over her chest, looking snobbier than ever. Here, Draco thought. Here was his chance to fill his head with someone other than Ginny. But standing there, staring at Pansy, the only thing Draco could think was how much she resembled a pug-faced dog.

He gritted his teeth. "No," he said harshly.

"What are _you_ in such a bad mood about?" she asked sourly. "You look like you've just lost another Quidditch match to Potter." She looked over at Potter and his gang, where Ginny was glancing at Draco every few seconds, smiling and blushing slightly.

"Looks like somebody fancies you," Pansy sneered, looking amused. "That's adorable. Well since you obviously have no regard for me, you might as well start banging the blood-traitor." She grinned nastily. "Just promise me you'll let me watch when you're Father finds out…"

Draco growled and turned away, stalking angrily toward a group of first year Gryffindor students who were loitering in the doorway. "What are you staring at?" he snapped.

One terrified-looking boy backed away. "Nothing, we- we were just…"

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Draco said sharply, and walked away.

Somehow, taking points from Gryffindor didn't cheer him up the way it usually did.

References:

1) She'd been so nervous during her exam that she'd written 'I am a fish' one hundred times and passed out on her way out the door. – _Red Dwarf_

2) 'Guess who?' 'Umm, Ron?' 'Well, yeah, but keep guessing anyway.' 'How about Ron?' –_Buffy_

3) "And I never really liked you anyway, and… and you have stupid hair."- _Buffy_

4) "Don't you have an elsewhere to be?" –_Buffy_

23

23 


	4. Chapter 4

Where the Wild Things Are

Chapter 4

Hermione took a deep breath, staring apprehensively at the Weasleys' front door. She glanced nervously back at her mother and father, who were looking at her expectantly. Her mother smiled warmly and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Go ahead, love."

Hermione nodded, took another deep breath, and then reached out her hand and pressed her finger against the Weasleys' doorbell. From somewhere within The Burrow, Hermione heard the sound of a rooster crowing, followed by two or three little explosions and a lot of thundering footsteps (presumably people coming down the rickety staircase). She could only assume that the explosions meant the twins were home now.

Hermione looked nervously back at her parents again. They had met the Weasleys once or twice in Diagon Alley, but this would be their first time in a wizarding home, not to mention the first time they'd be spending extended amounts of time with Ron. She had told them upon her return home earlier that week about her relationship with Ron. Her mother had gone into raptures about what a nice boy Ron had seemed when she'd met him. Hermione assumed she was making it up in order to be supportive, since Hermione had had to spend nearly fifteen minutes describing their meeting before her mother remembered whom she meant. Her father had pursed his lips, nodded, and said that as long as Ron was a gentleman, then he wouldn't tie Ron down and drill holes in his teeth without anesthetic.

Later on though, her mother had sat her down to talk about Ron.

'_Mum, I know you and Dad were hoping that I'd go out with Dr. Slone's son down the road, but-'_

'_Oh, please, Hermione. Mrs Slone wanted to set you two up, not me. He's dull as powder, dear, you should at least be with someone amusing.'_

'_Well, Ron certainly is that…' Hermione fell silent for a moment. 'Mum, how did you know that Dad was… you know, "the one"?' _

_Her mother smiled, and blushed a little, glancing over at her father. 'I just knew, that's all. When you love someone…well, you tell me what it's like.'_

_Hermione thought about it for a moment, trying not to blush. 'He makes my head go all tingly…' she said bashfully._

_Her mother nodded comprehension. 'I know. It's wonderful, isn't it? Trust your intuition, love. If this boy Ron is in your heart, then follow it. When has following your heart ever led you wrong?'_

Hermione smiled inwardly at the memory, taking comfort in her mother's firm, encouraging grip on her shoulder. What was she worried about? Everything would be fine.

From the other side of the door Hermione heard Mrs Weasley hiss, 'Ron, tuck your shirt in!' and then, after a loud scuffling and another explosion from deep within the house, the door opened to reveal six red-haired people, and Harry off to one side, beaming out at them. Hermione did a quick visual sweep of the people present. Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing together; Mr Weasley wearing one of his most ridiculous muggle outfits yet (a lurid orange jumper with red knitted footballs all over it, a red and green kilt and a golf hat). In the back were Bill and Charlie, who must have gotten time off from work to come home. Ron and Ginny were standing with Harry. Harry and Ginny were both smiling warmly at her, and Ron looked so nervous that Hermione was afraid he might be sick.

"Umm, hi," Hermione said. "Mum, Dad, you remember Mr and Mrs Weasley."

Her parents both smiled and nodded.

"It's a pleasure, really," said her mother, and Hermione noticed her elbow her father in the ribs.

"Yes," said her father, stepping forward. "Yes, a real pleasure. Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley," he said, nodding to each of them. Hermione saw him glance momentarily at Ron and felt her stomach leap into her throat.

"Please," said Mr Weasley, stepping eagerly forward and extending his hand. "Call me Arthur."

"Oh," said Mrs Weasley, also stepping forward. "I'm being horribly rude. Do come in, you must be frozen," she ushered them in, shut the door behind them and started taking coats and hats. "I do wish you could have traveled here by Floo, but with things being the way they are at the moment, the Ministry has had our Floo disconnected from the Network. It's been horribly inconvenient, I can tell you."

They all walked into the kitchen, which looked more neat and tidy than Hermione was ever used to seeing The Burrow. Usually the kitchen in the Burrow was the center of activity, a cluttered mass of books, cooking and stray jumpers. Mrs Weasley had obviously outdone herself.

Everyone sat around the table, except for Mrs Weasley, who bustled around serving people tea and biscuits. Hermione jumped out of her seat to help. She and Mrs Weasley had had the occasional moment of friction in the past, when Mrs Weasley had thought that Hermione had been dating (and cheating on) Harry. Now that she was dating Ron, Hermione was determined to make sure they got on well.

"So, Miss Mouse," said her father, and Hermione cringed inwardly at the use of her pet name in front of Ron and Harry. Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye that Harry had raised his eyebrows in amusement and Ginny was grinning madly. "Aren't you going to introduce us to everyone?"

Hermione blushed. She knew that her father wanted a formal introduction to Ron.

"Oh, sorry," said Mr Weasley. "This is Bill, my eldest, Charlie, and Ginny" he said pointing to each of them as he said them. "Fred and George are upstairs right now," he said, glancing uneasily at Mrs Weasley.

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips and nodded. "Yes, they're… working…" She then sat down beside Mr Weasley with a cup of tea.

At that moment there was another explosion, and the ceiling rattled, raining dust down onto them. Hermione caught Harry's eye, and coughed in an attempt to disguise her snort of laughter.

Mr Weasley pretended not to notice. "I think you've met Ron and Harry already," he said.

Hermione gulped and glanced at her mother, who smiled encouragingly at her. Her father nodded politely at both of them, his stare lingering on Ron.

"Nice to see you again, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice.

And then there was silence. The room was filled only with the sound of people sipping tea and the musical clink of teacups being put back in saucers. Ron shifted in his chair and glanced at Hermione. Mrs Weasley was looking around the room, perhaps hoping to see something she could go and clean. Hermione's mother was watching with interest the progress of the washing up that was being done on its own in the sink, and her father looked like he was trying very hard to not reach across the table and threaten Ron with tooth drills.

"So…" said Mr Weasley, "so you two are… are teeth healers?"

Hermione saw Ron roll his eyes, and she suppressed a giggle.

"Dentists," said her father, taking another sip of his tea.

"Yes, and you fix teeth? How _do_ you manage that without any magic?"

"Well," her father started, looking a little nonplussed. "We use different appliances to correct bite problems…"

Mr Weasley looked intrigued and opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Mrs Weasley interrupted. "Arthur, we talked about this. The Grangers are on holiday. They don't want to discuss their work, do you? Of course not." There was a tone of finality in her voice that stopped anyone from arguing the point.

And they fell once more into silence. Hermione looked from her parents to the Weasleys (Ron, mostly) and thought madly of something they could talk about. The minutes ticked loudly by from the clock on the wall, and everyone sipped their tea, glancing uncomfortably at one another out of the corners of their eyes.

After a long moment, Mrs Weasley let out an exasperated sigh and put her teacup down.

"Oh for pity's sake, this is ridiculous," she said. "We're all sitting here awkwardly because we all know that Hermione and Ron are dating now, and none of us wants to say anything. Well, that's quite enough of that, thank you. Ron?"

Ron's eyes went wide and his face went very white. "Yes?"

"Do you promise Mr and Mrs Granger that you'll be a gentleman and treat Hermione well?" Hermione went very pink and bowed her head.

Ron gulped, glanced at Hermione and then nodded. "Yes." Then, after a moment, added, "of course."

"Right then," said Hermione's mother, taking her cue from Mrs Weasley. She turned to Hermione's father. "That should be enough for you, Walter. Now smile and shake the boy's hand already."

Ron looked like he would have been much happier if they'd left it at that, but extended his hand to Hermione's father. After a moment's hesitation and a very severe look from her mother, he reached over and shook Ron's hand.

"Right," said Mrs Weasley, with her signature note of finality, "Mr Granger," she began.

"Yes?" he responded, looking a little taken aback at her straightforward manner.

"Hermione told us that you like to tinker with, er, automobiles."

Hermione's father nodded, glancing at Hermione. He leaned forward then, looking less embarrassed and a little more interested.

"Oh yes," said Hermione's mother, "cars are rather a hobby of Walter's. You should see our garage; it's in constant chaos, with all those spare parts and tools of his."

"Really?" said Mr Weasley eagerly. "I should love to show you my own garage. I recently acquired a new car--"

And with that they both stood up, all awkwardness forgotten.

"Oh yes," said Hermione's father. "What make?"

"Make? I'm not sure what you mean, but it has the letters 'B, M, and W on the back…"

"Really?" her father replied, looking excited. "That's extraordinary."

"Yes, and I wanted to make a few…" he glanced warily back at Mrs Weasley, "adjustments. But I'm having trouble figuring out…"

His voice faded away as they closed the door behind them.

"Mrs Weasley," her mother said, glancing at Hermione, and then smiling warmly at Mrs Weasley. "Will you do me the pleasure of showing me your garden? It looked just gorgeous from out front."

Mrs Weasley looked pleased and a little surprised. "Yes…" she said, standing up. "Yes, of course. And do call me Molly."

"Molly, of course."

Both women stood up and headed for the door, grabbing their coats from the stand.

"Ron," said Mrs Weasley, turning back. "Why don't you get the Grangers' luggage stored away in the guest room?"

Ron nodded, then glancing at Hermione, added "It's nice to meet you again, Mrs Granger."

Hermione's mother smiled encouragingly at him. "Please, Ron, call me Shirley."

Inside, Hermione glowed.

Ginny opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She sat up in bed and looked around her room. Hermione was asleep in her cot on the other side of the room.

It was one week into holidays, and Hermione and her parents had been with them for a few days now. After the initial awkwardness of their arrival, the atmosphere in the Burrow had been very warm and relaxed. Ron was getting on extremely well with both Hermione's parents. In fact, when Hermione had come up to bed tonight, she'd said that Ron was staying up with her father to see how this muggle 'internet' thing worked (Hermione's father had a small, hand-held computer.) Ron had become almost as interested in muggle things are their father was, though Ginny wondered how much of his interest was out of desire to impress Hermione's parents.

Christmas had been fantastic. The house was full of more people than the Burrow had ever managed to hold before. Fortunately, the house had rather expanded in the past few years, with new rooms and floors being added on like puzzle pieces (Hermione and Ginny were sleeping in a new room up on the top floor.) Several members of the Order had been there, including Professor Lupin and the healer from St. Mungo's, Diana Inle. There had been a lot of bustle and toasting when he had announced that she was, in fact, his fiancée and they would be getting married in a year from now. Ginny still thought it was a little weird (teachers, even former teachers, weren't _supposed_ to have personal lives), but Harry had seemed extremely pleased.

The only real source of awkwardness had been when Dean had arrived two days ago. Ginny had been trying very hard to push back the guilty feeling living inside her. Every time Dean kissed her, or showed her any affection at all, she couldn't help thinking of Draco and how she missed him. She felt disgusted with herself and what she was doing to Dean. To make matters worse, Hermione seemed to have noticed that something was up; she kept glancing at her suspiciously whenever Dean was around, or whenever Draco was mentioned. It had been inevitable, really. Hermione had always been able to pick up on these things.

Ginny sighed and glanced at the clock on her table. 3:30am. Ginny sighed and rolled over.

There was a sudden loud bang, and a yell from somewhere close by, and Hermione sat bolt upright in her cot.

Ginny reached for her dressing gown and climbed out of bed.

"Did you hear that?" Hermione asked, looking wide-eyed and throwing back her covers.

"Yeah, a yell. It sounded like--"

Another yell cut her off, this one louder and more distinct.

"Harry," Hermione finished, sounding panicked. She grabbed her dressing gown and they both ran for the door and piled out onto the hallway. Ron and Harry were three floors below them. Ginny and Hermione reached the first landing at the same time as Bill and Charlie were coming out of the room they were sharing.

"What's going on?" asked Bill, tying his robe tightly in front.

"I don't know," Ginny said, glancing down the hallway to where Fred and George were coming out of their room. "Somebody yelled, we thought it was-,"

They were just reaching the staircase when a piercing scream sounded from far below.

Hermione gasped. "Mum!" She dashed down the stairs at break-neck speed, and the others thundered after her, down the stairs, past Harry's door, past their parents' door and into the living room.

And what greeted them there made Ginny gasp in horror.

Harry opened his eyes, suddenly wide-awake. He glanced at the clock: 3:25. What had woken him? He listened hard, thinking that perhaps the attic's ghoul had been dropping pipes above his room again. He looked across at Ron's bed, which was still empty. Harry assumed that Ron was still up with Hermione's father, tinkering with some muggle contraption or other.

A frosty breeze was blowing across the room, and Harry wondered vaguely why the window was open. Had he opened it before going to bed? He sat up and looked across the room. The curtains were rustling lightly. Harry climbed out of bed and crossed the room to the window, looking cautiously out. All seemed quiet, and the stars overhead were twinkling brightly. It was really a very beautiful night.

Harry took a deep breath, taking in the scents of winter and Christmas. The breeze smelled of pine trees, like a forest clearing at night. Only sweeter somehow, like strawberries. There was a strange, coppery scent as well, and it got stronger every moment. Coppery… like blood almost. Blood and damp moss…

'_The Fae leave a place smelling like damp moss and blood wherever they go.'_

'_Well now. Yes, that _is_ interesting…Be seeing you…'_

There is nothing quite so alarming as the slow realization that one is not alone. When Harry turned around to see a young woman standing before him, he let out a yell of surprise. She lowered her hood, a mane of very dark, thick hair falling to her waist, and smiled at him in a way that made a chill run down his spine. She stared at him, looking him straight in the eyes, and Harry felt suddenly as if a protecting veil had been pulled back. He took a step backward, and felt the windowsill against his back. He looked quickly to the door, noting that he'd have to get past her in order to make an escape.

Two pairs of clawed hands gripped his arms and held him tightly, and Harry let out another yell, louder this time. He looked behind him to the people holding him, if they could be called 'people' at all. They were both very short, no more than three feet high. The one on his right was a woman, with long, crayon-red hair, dark eyes and a wicked smile. The one on his left looked to be a boy no older than twelve, with black, spiked hair and a toothy grin. Both were clothed in grey and had dark hoods which had been pushed back to reveal very pointy ears tattooed with an organic, ivy-like design.

"Hello, Harry," said the woman before him, an amused and dangerous grin spreading across her lips. "It's good to see you again."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and think clearly. A million questions sprang into his mind, and it was a moment before he could get even one of them out.

"What are you?" he asked, glancing at the door. Surely someone had heard him yell?

"That's a little rude… My name is Sheridan," she said. "I'm a Fae, of course, of the Sidhe Clan. And you can stop waiting for your friends to burst through the door and rescue you. They won't be coming."

At that moment Harry heard a thundering of footsteps on the stairs, coming toward his room.

"Oh yeah?" Harry said, but his smile quickly faded as the footsteps ran past his door and faded away.

Sheridan was smiling at him again, and the creatures holding him began to cackle madly.

"I should think," said Sheridan, "that they're rather preoccupied at the moment." She reached out and picked up Harry's cloak from the edge of his bed. "It's cold where we're going, Harry. You'll need this."

The sitting room was filled with Death Eaters, twenty at least. Ginny felt a sickening lurch of her stomach as she caught sight of four unconscious bodies, slumped in one corner. Moody, Lupin, Tonks and Shacklebolt, who had been the Aurors on duty that night. In the center of the room, bound and held by several of Voldemort's masked servants, were a number of people. Hermione's parents were kneeling together, holding each other tightly and looking terrified. Ginny's parents and Ron were kneeling next to them, their hands bound behind their backs. Dean wasn't anywhere to be seen, and Ginny let out a small breath of relief. He must still be asleep in his room. Her relief didn't last long though, as she noticed that Ron was bleeding from a bad cut on his forehead, and his leg was sticking out at an odd angle.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, and started forward, but a Death Eater stepped quickly forward and pulled both she and Ginny back.

"Now, now," said a cold, drawling voice, which Ginny instantly recognized. Lucius Malfoy's. He walked toward her, pointing his wand at her. "Take their wands," he said to the Death Eater holding her. Silently, the man (or woman, Ginny couldn't tell) complied. Then Lucius turned to the others. "Cover them all and disarm them."

Ten Death Eaters moved instantly to Ginny's brothers.

It happened very quickly. Fred and George both jumped forward, shouting, their wands extended. A flash of brilliant light filled the room, and red and green sparks showered over them. Somewhere in the distance, Ginny thought she could hear her mother screaming. When the light faded and the smoke cleared, five bodies were lying in a heap on the floor. Three Death Eaters, as well as Fred and George.

Ginny could hear someone screaming, and there was sharp pain in her shoulders. It took her a moment to realize that the screaming was coming from her own throat as she struggled against her captor to get to her brothers. Her mother had dissolved into tears, and her father and brothers were all fighting madly against their restraints.

"There now," drawled Lucius from behind his mask, and Ginny felt sick to her stomach, "see what happens when you struggle?" He pointed his wand once more at her and turned to look at the rest of her family. "Now please, calm down, or your lovely daughter here will join them."

Her parents and brothers fell silent, except for her mother's stifled sobs.

"Thank you," Lucius said. He then made a vague gesture to two of the other Death Eaters, who pulled Hermione's parents forward. "Now, Miss Granger. Perhaps you'd be so good as to give me some information. Last year Potter was told the contents of a certain prophesy. As his best friend, I'm sure he spoke to you about it."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and tore her gaze away from Fred and George's motionless bodies. "Wh- Why me?"

"Well, we tried asking your charming boyfriend here," started Lucius, gesturing to Ron, "but I'm afraid he wasn't very forthcoming. The Potter boy's 'hero' complex seems to be contagious. But you… well, I'm sure that you don't want anything to happen to your dear muggle parents, now do you?"

Ginny saw Hermione swallow, and then shake her head.

"Don't tell him, Hermione!" Ron burst out, but Lucius just ignored him.

"Come now, Miss Granger, we haven't all night."

Hermione stared at her parents for a long moment, and Ginny held her breath, keeping one eye on Lucius' wand.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Mum, Dad," Hermione said. She glanced at Ron, and then turned to look at Lucius. "But I'm not telling you anything."

Ginny could almost see Lucius' grin behind his mask.

"Well, I must confess," Lucius said, "I'm rather glad to hear that. I was a little worried that you'd tell us everything right away, and I wouldn't have the pleasure…"

He pointed his wand at Hermione's mother and quietly muttered _"__Crucio."_

Hermione's mother fell to the floor, writhing and screaming mercilessly. Ginny closed her eyes and listened to her shrieks, matched only by the indignant and horrified cries of Hermione and her father. The Death Eater holding her tightened his grip on her arms, and Ginny opened her eyes to look up at him, but he was watching Hermione's mother thrashing and flailing helplessly.

After a few agonizing moments, Lucius raised his wand and Hermione's mother stopped screaming, and laid panting and whimpering on the floor.

"Let's try again, shall we?" said Lucius, his voice perfectly calm, almost amused. "The Prophesy. What did it say?"

"I don't _know_!" Hermione cried through her tears. "He didn't tell us, okay?"

"I very much doubt that, Miss Granger."

He pointed his wand at Hermione's mother again and hissed the curse, the enjoyment in his voice ringing in Ginny's ears. As her agonized shrieks filled the room, a red-hot hatred boiled up in Ginny, and she steeled herself against the urge to throw herself at Lucius like her brothers had done. How _could_ Draco be his son? She was filled with a sudden desperate desire to see Draco, certain that if she could just throw herself into his arms, everything would be all right.

Lucius held the curse on the poor woman longer this time, and the Death Eaters in the room started to laugh. Hermione cried and screamed, and her father fought, swearing, against his bonds.

"Stop it!" Ginny heard herself screech. "Just stop, I'll tell you what the Prophesy said!"

Lucius lifted the curse, and turned to look at her. Ginny swallowed against the lump in her throat, thinking quickly. Hermione was staring at her hard, but Ginny ignored her, afraid that if she looked at her she'd give away her bluff.

"Oh really?" said Lucius. "Potter told you the contents of the Prophesy, did he?"

Ginny nodded firmly. "Yes, he did. Let them go, and I'll tell you what it said."

Lucius regarded her for a moment. Then he looked at the Death Eater holding her, who shook his head. Ginny held her breath, praying he would believe her.

"If that is the case," said Lucius, "then why did you tell my son that Potter had confided only in Miss Granger and Mr Weasley?"

Ginny faltered, and felt as though her heart had been plunged into ice-cold water. How did he know that?

_Because Draco told him, _said a nasty voice in the back of her mind. Ginny felt all the air escape from her lungs and time seemed to stand still. No… No, he couldn't have.

_Don't be stupid, of course he could,_ said the voice. _You knew he couldn't be trusted, Ginny Weasley. You knew he'd be your downfall. You went to him anyway. _

And, of course, it all fell into place. That's how the Death Eaters had known where to find them, known to expect enchantments and Aurors. This whole thing, Hermione's mother, Ron's injuries, Fred, George… it was all her fault.

"No…" she whispered. She looked around at her family; suddenly grateful that Dean was not present. All of them were looking at her with confused expressions. Except for Hermione, whose mouth was open in shock and horror.

"Ginny, you didn't…" she said. "I mean, I knew that something… but you didn't tell him things… not about Harry?"

Ginny opened her mouth to explain, to defend herself, but no sound came out. What defense could she give? None of this made any sense to her. It couldn't _all_ have been a lie, could it? The things he'd said to her, the desperation with which he'd clung to her… No, there was no way that all of it had been false. He had needed her, the way she had needed him. She was sure of it.

"No," Ginny said, and turned to look at Lucius. "I don't believe you. Draco didn't tell you anything, he wouldn't have."

And Lucius laughed, cold and cruel.

"Ah yes, my dear," he said. "When all else fails, a total unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through. Draco? Educate our young Miss Weasley, won't you?"

Ginny felt a cold stab of horror as the Death Eater holding her let go of her arms. With one hand he took hold of his mask and pulled, and with the other he lowered his hood. His white-blonde hair fell messily across his eyes, icy grey and cold. He glanced at his father, then around at the surrounding Death Eaters, and then looked once more at Ginny. And then he _smiled_.

"I told you I'd come visit you."

The room was now filled with strange, winged creatures. Some were small, only inches in height, flitting about the room, inspecting Harry's belongings. Others were as tall as Harry, and were chasing each other around the room. Beside Sheridan knelt a hideous creature with wrinkled skin, a very swollen head and bright, black eyes.

"This house is filled with Aurors," Harry was saying, trying to concentrate on Sheridan instead of the flitting creatures that were now sorting through his underwear drawer and laughing incessantly.

"Yes," Sheridan replied, leaning comfortably against the bedpost. "We met them. Your werewolf friend put up quite an impressive fight."

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. Professor Lupin… He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice from wavering. "As soon as they realize I'm gone…"

But he trailed off at the amused look on Sheridan's face.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, gesturing to the creature at her feet.

Harry glanced at it, and then shook his head. He didn't like to admit his ignorance, but didn't see what he could gain by denying it.

"It's a Changeling of the Quiet Folk. Rowan!" she called, and a very short, bearded creature with coal-black skin and webbed feet waddled forwards. He had a very large, pointy green hat on his head and looked distinctly grouchy.

"Yes, Mistress?" Rowan said sulkily.

"Rowan, will you favour Harry with a demonstration?"

Rowan scowled. "Yes, Mistress…" he muttered. He then pulled out a long stick from inside his cloak. It was covered over with strange, intricate carvings in some language that Harry didn't recognize. Rowan moved forward and prodded the wrinkled, big-headed creature with the stick.

It happened slowly at first. The wrinkles began to recede, and the head began to shrink. And then the creature began to grow. At first Harry thought that it must have stood up, because soon it was almost as tall as Harry. The creature's hair, which had previously been short and grey, began to grow and turn black. It didn't grow well, but rather all over the place. Its eyes, once small and beetle-black, turned a brilliant shade of green. And before Harry could quite register the transformation, he was staring at himself, right down to the glasses and the lightening bolt scar.

"Draco…" Ginny whispered, hot tears stinging her eyes. "But-- but I thought…"

"No, you didn't," Draco said shortly. He was looking past her, refusing to meet her stare.

"Why?" she asked, blinking back her tears and trying to steady her voice. "If all you wanted was information, then why the big act? There has to be an easier way to spy."

Draco hesitated before answering, glancing for a moment at his father. "You're assuming the payoff is the point."

"How… How _could_ you…?" Ginny heard herself ask, certain that she didn't want to hear the answer.

"What, you mean you're actually surprised? Come on, Weasley," he said, and Ginny thought the disdain in his voice would break her. "You couldn't really have thought I _cared_ about you. I mean, sure, it was fun, but… everyone has their level."

Ginny felt the tears behind her eyes freeze, felt her heart harden in solid rage. She pursed her lips and clenched her fists, resisting the urge to smack him across the face. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and steady.

"Get out of my house, Malfoy. Now."

Lucius stepped forward. "Not yet, I think. We haven't yet got what we came for. Perhaps someone in the room will see fit to save the young Miss Weasley from the same fate as her brothers there." He smiled wickedly, gesturing at Fred and George's motionless bodies, and turned to Draco. "Draco, do the honours, won't you?"

Ginny glanced quickly from Lucius to Draco, who was looking at his father. Then, after a long moment, Draco swallowed, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Ginny.

Sheridan regarded the Harry-Changeling. "Good likeness, don't you think, Harry?"

"Yes, Mistress," replied the Changeling. It even sounded like Harry, though it spoke in a nasty, sardonic tone of voice that sent a chill down Harry's spine.

"Don't worry about him, Harry," Sheridan said, this time looking at Harry rather than the Changeling. "He'll make himself right at home here, won't you Harry?"

The Changeling grinned wickedly, and Harry felt he might be sick.

"Oh, yes, Mistress." The Changeling walked toward Ron's bed and picked up a photograph of Hermione that stood on the bedside table. The Hermione in the picture shrieked furiously and chucked one of her textbooks at the Changeling (which, of course, had no effect) and then dashed out of the frame. The Changeling whistled and looked up at Harry. "Fiery, that one… Yes, I think I'll be quite comfortable here."

Harry felt a stab of panic. That thing would be living in the house with Hermione, and the Weasleys. It would be sleeping in the same room as Ron… And none of them would know. They would all just think it was him… Harry started forward, but the creatures holding him tightened their grip on his arms.

Sheridan laughed and gathered the few belongings of Harry's that her faery helpers had dropped on the bed for her into a small, blood-red bag and passed the package to Rowan.

"Rowan, see that this gets back to Headquarters, won't you?"

Rowan grumbled yet another 'yes Mistress' as he took the package and tucked it into his cloak.

Sheridan stepped forward and flicked a hand in Harry's direction. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a hole began to appear in front of him. At first it looked merely as though a light had dimmed, leaving the corner in darkness. But then the dark grew, until there was a large, gaping doorway of blackness in the middle of the room.

"Come, Harry," she said. "It's time to go."

Harry looked warily at the yawning void in the middle of the room. He didn't like to think what Professor Moody would say if he knew Harry had simply walked into an unidentified hole in space with a dark creature at his back.

"My helpful _Duende _there," Sheridan said, gesturing to the faeries that still had a tight grip on his arms, "will be only to pleased to drag you through the door kicking and screaming. But I should so much prefer it if you walked through with a little dignity. You don't want to arrive in front of the Dark Lord on your knees, do you? I'm sure Lord Voldemort would enjoy that, but…"

Harry stared at her in shock. Even most dark creatures refused to speak Voldemort's name, and no one who was in Voldemort's service ever dared to say it. After this initial shock wore off though, he considered what she had said. There was some appeal to the idea that they would have to drag him away fighting, and he didn't like the idea of making their kidnapping him any easier for them. But to be delivered to Voldemort on his knees, to kneel before him while he laughed and mocked him… no, that he couldn't bear. He must face Voldemort standing.

"No," he replied. "I'll walk."

Sheridan smiled then, a more genuine smile than he'd yet seen from her. "We're a lot alike, Harry, you and I. Rowan, alert our…'friends' downstairs that we're finished here, won't you?"

Rowan scowled again and pulled out his stick once more. He waddled his way to the window, muttering something incoherent under his breath, and climbed up on the windowsill. He then banged his stick three times against the floor, and then jabbed it at the sky. There was a deafening crack and a shower of white sparks erupted from the end of it, illuminating the whole sky.

Ginny gazed at Draco as he raised his wand and pointed at her. She'd always had a hard time reading his expressions, but if she didn't know better, she'd say he looked conflicted. He glanced at his father, and then back at her, clutching his wand tightly. What was he waiting for? Perhaps he was hoping that she would beg him for mercy, cry and plead with him. But she wouldn't beg him for anything, not ever. Ginny gritted her teeth furiously and steeled herself for whatever painful fate Draco had in mind.

"Draco!" Lucius said sharply. "Obey my order this minute."

Draco looked once more from Ginny, to his father, and back to Ginny. Then he took a breath, and opened his mouth.

"No!" Ron yelled, lurching forward on his broken leg at Draco. Two Death Eaters moved at once and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him backward and bending his broken leg further back. Ron gasped in pain, but didn't stop fighting to get to Ginny.

"Ron, stop, you're hurting yourself!" Hermione cried, struggling against her own restraints.

"No!" he yelled back. "Malfoy, you slimy git, if you so much as _look_ at my sister, I'll--"

But he was interrupted by an ear-splitting crack, as if the sky were breaking apart. The room lit up with a near-blinding light, and through the window Ginny could see a shower of brilliant white sparks.

Sheridan stepped in front of the black void and gestured Harry forward. The faeries that held him released their grip and stepped back. Harry hesitated a moment, then moved forward.

"Rowan," Sheridan said, turning to look at him, "once you've got your Changeling settled here, send everyone back to the Grove. Report back with me when you return to Headquarters."

Rowan glowered (Harry thought perhaps his eyebrows were knit in a permanent scowl,) and nodded another acknowledgement.

"And if the Dark Lord's servants give you any trouble upon your arrival," Sheridan grinned, "you know how to handle it."

For the first time, Rowan smiled, his lips curling into an eerie, ugly smirk. "Oh yes, Mistress."

Sheridan nodded and then looked back at Harry. "Come, Harry. We'll go together, shall we?" she said, holding out her hand to him.

Harry looked back at his room, his gaze lingering on a photograph of Ron, Hermione, and himself. All three of them were staring out at him, waving goodbye. They would come for him, Harry thought. Hermione would see through the Changeling; they would figure out what had happened, she would tell Dumbledore, and they would come and find him.

He looked back at Sheridan. She was dangerous; Harry knew this. She was in league with Voldemort, after all, wasn't she? Somehow, though, he wasn't afraid. He reached out and took her hand, and stepped toward the black void, steeling himself for what might be on the other side.

It happened instantly. All the Death Eaters let go of their captives and began disapparating with loud, echoing cracks. Soon only Lucius and Draco remained. Draco was still standing in front of Ginny, his wand pointed directly at her chest.

"Come, Draco," Lucius said, clamping a hand tightly on Draco's shoulder. "We must go now. You will get your chance to curse your traitorous little tart. Later."

Ginny gritted her teeth together, hurt and humiliation flooding over her. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision of him.

'_I still feel him sometimes. Dumbledore told me that Tom's memory was destroyed when the Diary was, but that's not true. I can almost hear him, talking to me in my sleep… It's like he's a part of me now. I don't think he'll ever leave… I'm sorry, Draco. You didn't come here to listen to me cry.'_

'_It's okay. It's quite flattering actually, that you're comfortable enough to cry in front of me. Most people are too afraid to bare themselves like that. It means you trust me.' _

_He leaned over her and trailed light kisses from her eyes, down her cheeks. Then he covered her mouth with his own, and she could taste her tears on his lips. 'You can trust me, Ginny…'_

No. No, she would not cry in front of him. He didn't deserve that.

"Get out," Ginny said, her voice quiet and dangerous. And still he didn't move. "You know I'd rather take a bath in bubotuber pus than agree with your father, Malfoy," Ginny said. "But if you don't get out of my house, so help me God--"

"Draco--" Lucius interrupted, tightening his grip on Draco's shoulder.

Draco lowered his wand and glared at Ginny. "We'll finish this later," said Draco, pulling up his hood. Then both he and his father disapparated with a resounding crack.

The room felt muffled. Upon the disappearance of their captors, Ginny's mother and father had run straight to Fred and George and were leaning over them. Her mother was crying and whispering 'thank God, thank God.' Hermione had rushed to her own mother's side, Bill was helping Ron, and Charlie was busy checking on the Aurors in the corner. But Ginny was oblivious to all of it. On the floor where Draco had been standing, Ginny saw her wand. He must have dropped it when he disapparated. As she bent down and closed her trembling fingers around it, she felt as though whatever strength had been holding her up had disappeared with him, and she nearly collapsed as the full weight of Draco's betrayal came crashing down on her.

"I don't understand," Ginny's father was saying. "If they came here to discover the contents of the Prophesy, why didn't they ask Harry?"

And for a moment, all thoughts of Draco fled from Ginny's mind. Harry… Her father was right. Lucius's interrogation, Mrs Granger's torture, Draco's betrayal… If they were really after the Prophesy, why had they asked Ron and Hermione? Why didn't they drag Harry down and make him tell them? Last year they had come up with a brilliant strategy to lure in Harry and recover the Prophesy. Tonight's events had been so illogical, so poorly executed in comparison. Unless…

"Hermione," Ginny said, her mind racing. "Why isn't Harry here?"

Hermione looked up from examining her mother, tears in her eyes. "Wh- what?"

"Well everyone else is down here, why isn't Harry?" Ginny fought against the panic that was rising inside her as all the pieces of the puzzle came together. "Dad's right, none of this makes sense. If they really had wanted the Prophesy, there are much cleverer ways of getting it."

Hermione's brow knitted in confusion. "That's true…"

"And tonight, when we woke up, we thought we heard someone yell. Someone who wasn't your mum."

Hermione hesitated a moment, then her hand flew to her mouth. "It-- it sounded like--"

"Harry," Ginny finished, whirling around as she said it and tearing up the stairs to Harry's room. He heart was pounding against her ribs. _No,_ her mind screamed. She had been so stupid! She had trusted Draco and led him straight to Order headquarters. She had confided in him, given her heart to him. If it was only her heart to be broken by her naiveté, then perhaps she could bear it. But if something had happened to Harry because of her…

She nearly broke down Harry's door as she thundered through it, Hermione hot on her heels.

And there, in the center of the room, stood Harry, uninjured and smiling.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, throwing herself into his arms. "Oh, Harry, we were so worried!"

Ginny thought she might collapse under the weight of her relief. But… she had been so sure. She looked him over, searching for some sign. He looked different somehow, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly what was wrong. "Harry," she said questioningly. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry, still holding on to a weeping Hermione, looked up at her and grinned, and Ginny felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Of course, Ginny. I'm just fine."

References:

1) "When all else fails, a total unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through." – _Blackadder_


	5. Chapter 5

Where the Wild Things Are 

Chapter 5

When Draco arrived with his father in the drawing room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, there were already several people gathered around. The Dark Lord was sitting in a high-backed chair near the fireplace. Bellatrix Lestrange was standing beside him, looking smug. Placed around the room, keeping mostly to the shadows, Draco could make out the shapes of several other Death Eaters.

"Draco!" came a voice. Draco turned around to see his mother stepping out of the shadows and coming toward him. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, which Draco instinctively returned. Once she had let him go, she began to examine his face.

"You're late, are you all right?"

"Narcissa," said Lucius tersely. "The boy doesn't need you fawning over him. Get back to your place."

Draco gritted his teeth and glanced at Lucius. He waited for his mother to let him go and walk back to the shadows, but she didn't. Instead, she put an arm around his shoulders and raised her chin.

"My _place_ is beside my son."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, and Draco saw his hand tighten around his wand. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and dangerous.

"How dare you defy me in front of the boy. Get back to--"

"That's enough," came the high-pitched, cold voice of the Dark Lord. "Now is not the time for domestic squabbles. You should know better, both of you. There are more important things to deal with. Lucius, bring your son forward."

Draco swallowed briefly, and glanced at his mother.

She squeezed his shoulder briefly before letting him go. "Don't worry," she whispered to him. "It'll be over quickly." She then stepped back to let him pass.

Lucius placed a firm hand on his shoulder and lead him forward, glaring briefly at his mother as they passed.

"So, Lucius," said the Dark Lord. "This is your son. Come forward."

Draco obeyed, trying to ignore the nervous flutter of apprehension he felt.

"You are ready, then, to join our ranks." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Draco said. "My Lord," he added after a second.

"Your father has told me much of you, and of your eagerness to join us here. I have great expectations of you."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you." Draco replied.

"Tell me, how did you fair during the expedition tonight. Did you get a chance to curse the Weasley whore?"

Draco felt himself bristle, though he couldn't account for the sudden surge of protective anger. He bit his tongue a moment, and then shook his head. "No, unfortunately not." He tried not to picture the injured, betrayed look that had been on Ginny's face, and said, "I am hoping that another opportunity will arise before long. I should so like to repay her for the trouble her family has caused you, my Lord."

Voldemort grinned, a nasty sardonic grin, and nodded approvingly. "Well said, young Malfoy." He began to say something else, when he broke off and shifted his attention to the centre of the room. Draco turned around to see that a gaping hole of blackness had opened up behind him.

"Ah, this will be Sheridan, returning with our guest," Voldemort said, his grin widening.

After a moment of silence, a young, dark-haired woman stepped out of the blackness and into the room. Behind her followed Potter, looking wary but sort of fiercely determined.

"Sorry we're late," the young woman, presumably Sheridan, said, almost gaily. "Traffic was a horror. All those bloody inter-dimensional drivers, so inconsiderate. And you know they never signal."

Draco was a little shocked by the light, irreverant tone in her voice. She was standing in the presence of, not only at least twelve Death Eaters, but the most dangerous and cruel sorcerer in the world. Yet her tone and expression were as light and careless as if she were talking to a house-elf.

She stepped forward and gave a half-hearted curtsy to Voldemort. "Miss me?" she said, and if Draco didn't know better, he'd have said she was mocking the Dark Lord.

Voldemort glared at her, but said nothing, which surprised Draco. Any Death Eater who behaved this way would have been cursed into oblivion for such insolence.

Lucius, apparantly, was as shocked and horrifed as Draco at this disrespect.

"How _dare_ you speak that way to the Dark Lord. You ought to be on your knees."

"Don't you only wish," she smirked, glancing Lucius up and down. Then she turned to Voldemort. "I have brought he who you most desire," she said. Then, after a moment, added, "sorry, 'whom'." She stepped aside then, and Potter walked forward a few paces, glaring defiantly.

Draco felt an almost electric sense of anticipation. Now, surely, something horrifically painful and humiliating would happen to Potter.

"Ah, Potter," Voldemort said, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "How nice of you to join us here. Do you like what we've done with the place? Your godfather did a great deal of damage to it during his tenure here, but we've restored it to order now."

Draco didn't know what any of this meant, but before he could consider it much more, Potter was speaking.

"I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me angry so I'll drop my guard. It won't work. I don't care how good a Legilimens you are, you won't make me tell you anything."

"Yes," Voldemort said. "I know."

Draco almost did a double-take. What? Why wasn't he hexing him to pieces for his insolence, torturing him and forcing him to tell him what was in the Prophecy? Judging by the quiet murmurs going through the room, the others were thinking along the same lines. Even Potter looked shocked.

"You have proved before that you can withstand torture; and nor are you susceptible to bribery. I must assume, judging by my failed attempts to enter your mind over the last few months, that you have been adequately coached in Occlumency. However, I don't think even that will be much defence against the arts of the Sidhe. Sheridan," he called, and she stepped forward, making another small, almost mocking curtsy.

"Do oblige me, won't you?" Voldemort said.

Sheridan smiled again, and Draco felt a shiver go down his spine. He made a mental note to himself to keep away from Sheridan.

Sheridan turned to Potter, and took his hand. "Don't worry," she said softly. "This won't hurt." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "at least, I don't think it will."

Draco couldn't help feeling disappointed, but comforted himself with the thought that pain would probably come later. After all, when they had got what information they needed from him, the Dark Lord would hardly just let him go.

Sheridan took Potter's other hand and stared at him, relentlessly and unblinking. Draco waited for something else to happen, but nothing did. She just stared at him. Draco gritted his teeth. Why wasn't she _doing_ something? But when he looked closer at Potter's face, he realised that something _was_ different. Something was happening to him. He took a stumbling step back, but Sheridan held his hands firmly in hers. He flinched under her merciless gaze and looked terrifically vulnerable.

When finally she released her hold on him, Potter stumbled backwards, almost swooningly and Draco thought for one fantastic moment that he might actually faint.

"Well now," Sheridan was saying to Potter, "that _is_ interesting. Tell me, who was the redhead?"

Immediately Draco's thoughts turned to Ginny, her injured and horrified face swimming before his eyes. Draco shook his head angrily. He shouldn't be thinking about her. Ginny wasn't important now, and was almost certainly not the red-head in Potter's mind that Sheridan was referring to. Was it? No, it couldn't have been. Potter's never… Something red and boiling hot began to swell inside Draco, and he gritted his teeth against it. He told himself firmly, not for the first time, that Malfoys did _not_ get jealous, _or _feel guilty, and tried determinedly to focus his attention back on the present situation.

"Well?" Lucius was saying impatiently to Sheridan. "What did you see? Did you learn anything of interest?"

Sheridan laughed. "All too much," she said, looking at Voldemort. "I've got to hand it to you, my Lord, you know how to choose your adversaries."

Lord Voldemort did not react to this with more than a slight scowl, and folded his hands in his lap.

"And what of the _Prophecy_?" Lucius asked.

"Patience is a virtue, Lucius," Sheridan said, "which you would do well to learn. The human mind is a complicated instrument. You cannot simply walk in and pluck out a specific thought. It takes time, to wander and sift through, especially in one as young as Harry. At his age, there are so many new emotions and experiences that he is trying to make out and understand, that it is nearly impossible to find one coherent thought amidst the din of adolescent angst."

"Then why are you here?" Lucius spat. "What good can you be to us if you cannot do the task we brought you here for?"

"I said it was _nearly_ impossible. I'll get there, I only want for more time. Your Master does not lack for the necessary patience, do you my Lord?" She smiled then, and walked up to Voldemort's chair. She then turned and, to Draco's slight horror, her gaze fell upon himself.

"Aah. New recruit?" she asked Lucius. Lucius said nothing, but glanced at Lord Voldemort. Draco could sense his mother's anxious movement behind him.

"This is Lucius' son, Sheridan, Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said. "And yes, he will be joining us here."

Sheridan looked him up on and down a moment, and Draco felt inexplicably unnerved as her gaze ran over him. "May I?" she asked, and Voldemort nodded.

"By all means."

Sheridan stepped forward, and Draco resisted the urge to back away. He knew this was a test, and that he mustn't stumble or show his discomfort, as Potter had done. He lifted his chin defiantly and pursed his lips tightly together.

Sheridan slipped her hand around his. Her skin was soft and cool, and he felt an electric crackle at her touch.

She stared at him. Looked him in the eyes, straight through him to the wall behind. And then, quite suddenly, a violent surge of pain burst through him, as that of shattering glass. Pain so intense, he could hardly hear himself cry out. His carefully constructed wall of protection was torn down in an instant, and he could feel her stepping over the debris and walking freely through the recesses of his mind.

A tempest of images and emotions tore violently through him, and Draco felt like he was being ripped apart inside.

_Tears streamed silently down young Draco's face. _

_"Draco" his mother said, not unkindly, "you set your heart too much on these things. You knew your father would not allow you to keep the bird. It's a miracle he did not whip you. Hush… Don't cry, my love. You know what your father will do if he hears you crying…"_

_Draco closed his eyes, falling comfortably into the security of his mother's embrace and allowing her to smooth his hair back from his eyes and ease him down onto his bed. Her voice floated over him, sweet and compassionate, and he fell asleep to the familiar sound of her lullaby._

_Draco proudly and expectantly held out his hand to the black-haired, bespeckled boy in front of him, but his happy anticipation faded when he saw the cool, disdainful look on Harry's face._

_"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." _

_Draco felt himself colour, and let his hand drop to his side, hot with humiliation and disappointment. He had _so_ hoped that he would be the first to befriend the famous young wizard, to be able to tell his father of the connection he had made. _

_"Weakness is an infection, Draco," lectured his father. "It poisons and destroys. Jealousy, guilt, love… they are all signs of weakness. All sources of weakness are to be fought against and erradicated. I will not have a son who gives into his weaknesses."_

_"Yes, father," Draco said._

_"Never apologise, never explain."_

The scenes flashed past faster now, until they were a jumble of images, thoughts and feelings. There was Harry and Quidditch and jealousy and humiliation, and here was Ginny and her eyes and her smile, and tenderness and compassion and his mother, and then Pansy and Hogwarts, his father and determination and bitterness and pain. Pain, so sharp and violent that Draco thought surely his bones were shattering inside him.

_"STOP IT!"_ came a shrieking cry, and Draco felt himself falling backwards. He opened his eyes to see the concern on his mother's face, the disapproval on his father's and the delight on Sheridan's, before the room went black, and Draco fell mercifully into oblivion.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Next to her sat Ron, who had been released from the Healers' care after only a few hours. Bill, Harry, Hermione and Dean completed the group sitting around the table in the tea room of St. Mungo's. Fred and George were still unconsious, and their parents had stayed with them rather than join the others for breakfast. Hermione's parents were also still being looked after by the Healers. Tonks and Kingsley had run off to file reports with the ministry, and Mad-Eye and Professor Lupin had disapparated as soon as they'd been released, presumably to go report to Dumbledore.

The atmosphere was quiet and tense. Early morning sunlight was filtering through the hospital curtains, and Ginny could just hear some birds chirping outside.

As far as she could tell, Bill had explained to Dean what had happened while Ginny was being examined by the Healers. He obviously had left out a few details, or hadn't understood them himself though, and Dean was now sitting beside her, looking confused.

"I don't understand," Dean was saying. "How did Malfoy force you to tell him so much? Was it a truth curse? Or Veritaserum?"

Ginny felt her heart drop into her stomach. She opened and and closed her mouth a few times, before giving up and simply shaking her head. "No… no, he didn't force me, Dean."

"What?" Dean said, not understanding. "What do you mean? Then, how did he…" he trailed off, glancing at the others. "Oh…" he said, and looked away.

Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at him, to see the hurt and betrayal that she knew must be displayed on his face. _But I owe it to Dean to see this through._ She had bought this humiliation, hadn't she?

Beside Hermione, Ron's face dawned sudden compreshension. "Oh!" he said, looking very embarrassed and just a little sick. Ginny hazarded a glance around the room, and saw the same comprehension dawning over Bill, who also muttered a vague and embarrassed 'oh.'

Hermione glanced around at everyone, perhaps noticing that they were staring at her expectantly. "I don't need to say 'oh'," she said. "I got it before."

"How…" Dean began, trailing off again. "How long?" he managed.

Ginny gazed at him for a long moment. She looked around at the others, most of whom were staring at her with mixed looks of anger, disgust and concern. "A… about a month…" she said, in hardly more than a whisper.

Dean just nodded. "Oh," he muttered.

And the minutes ticked loudly by. Why was it that the earth never actually opened up and swallowed you when you really needed it to?

"Well…" Dean said finally. "Well, I'll just… I'll just be going, then." He got up from his chair and began to put on his jacket.

"What?" Ginny couldn't have heard him right. No outburst? No string of insults or accusations?

"My folks will be worried about me," Dean said simply. "See you around, Gin. I hope your brothers are okay." And with that, he turned, and walked out of the room, the door swinging closed behind him.

The silence in the room was deafening. Ginny felt the urge to run after Dean, to tell him how sorry she was, but she knew it wouldn't make any difference. She didn't have the right. The simple, empty tone of his voice was echoing through her ears. She almost wished he had shouted at her. It would at least have broken the awful, tense silence.

Ginny heard someone stand up and approach her. "You…" came Hermione's quiet voice from directly behind her. She turned around to face Hermione.

Ginny reeled backwards from the shock and pain as Hermione's hand connected with her face, and tears sprang to her eyes. She was vaguely aware of a few cries of surprise from around her, but her attention was focused solely on Hermione.

"How ­_could_ you?!" Hermione shrieked. "I mean, I figured you had some little crush on him or something, but I _never_ believed you were capable of this! What were you _thinking_?!"

"I don't know!" Ginny cried out, stepping back. "I just… I thought--"

"No, you didn't," Hermione said shortly. "You didn't think at all. You put all of us in danger, you got a lot of people hurt, all for nothing!"

"I'm sorry!" Ginny said, desperately trying to find some way to justify it, to explain what had happened. But she couldn't.

"Well 'sorry' isn't going to cut it!" Hermione yelled. "Someone could have _died_ Ginny! Fred and George almost did! What else did you tell Malfoy?"

"Nothing!" Ginny yelled back, tears beginning to stream down her face. "I didn't tell him anything, I just…" but as she was saying it, everything she'd ever said to Draco during their time together started to drift back into her mind. About herself, about Harry, about Ron and Hermione. She'd told him about Tom, about Fred and George's business, about last summer at Grimmauld Place. She'd even given him passwords to Gryffindor Tower, so that he could sneak in between classes. God, she'd been so stupid.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I just thought--"

"What?" Hermione interrupted. "What did you think, Ginny? That he was good? After everything he's done to _us_, to _you_, how could you think that? The truth is you were just carried away by flattery and stupidity. You lied to us, you put us all in danger, and you cheated on Dean. You're just as disgusting as that slut, Pansy--"

"Hermione, back off!" Ron yelled, stepping between Ginny and Hermione.

Ginny did a double take, too surprised to say anything. Of all the people she thought might defend her, Ron certainly wasn't one of them.

"How can you talk to her like that?" Ron said, turning bright red. "You're not even listening to her, Hermione. How do you know Malfoy didn't trick her? Or how do you know she wasn't trying to get information for _our_ side?"

"She _wasn't_, Ron! She just got carried away by plain old hormones!"

"How do you _know_ that?!"

"Ron--" Ginny said softly, tears streaming even more steadily down her face. She couldn't take Ron defending her. She'd rather they all just shouted at her. "Thanks, but he didn't force me.… Hermione's right. I was just stupid."

Ron stopped for a moment. He looked slightly confused, but then his features hardened into resolve. Ginny steeled herself and waited for the explosion.

"Well, so what?" Ron said.

"What?" said both Ginny and Hermione, incredulous.

"Everyone makes mistakes." Ron said, turning to face Hermione again. "Why shouldn't Ginny be allowed to?"

"Because this wasn't some simple little mistake, Ron! A mistake is when you lock your keys in your car, or when you forget to RSVP to a party! _This_ was _not_ a mistake! God, I can't believe you're actually sticking up for her! How can you?"

"Because that's what family does!" Ron shouted. "Maybe that's something you can't understand, but that's what family does. They _help_ each other. Yes, she screwed up, but so have all of us. I know you like to think you're Miss Perfect Prefect, but you screw up too, Hermione."

"I would _never_ have done what she did! I would never have cheated on you, or fooled around with _Malfoy_ or given him information that could get everyone I loved killed!"

"Well so what?" Ron spat back. "I'm not going to turn on my family, Hermione. We've had enough of that shit with Percy. If you want to get all self-righteous with someone, do it to me, because I won't let you attack Ginny again."

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her in the face. For several long moments, she didn't say anything. She just stared at Ron, and he stared mutinously back at her. Finally, she turned and looked at Harry, who had been silent up until now.

"What about you, Harry? Are you going to just let all this go?"

Harry looked up at Hermione, then to Ron and Ginny, and back to Hermione again.

"I'm with you, Hermione," he said. "I'm only surprised that she didn't charge Malfoy for her services."

His words hit Ginny like a physical blow, and she had to grab hold of Ron's arm to keep from falling to her knees. Harry had never spoken like that to anyone, not even to people he hated. The words sounded alien, twisted. Harry's good opinion had always meant the world to Ginny. She had half hoped that he would side with Ron, but she knew she didn't deserve it. She couldn't expect anyone to defend her now.

Ginny saw Ron's hand clench into a fist.

"Take that back," he said, his voice quiet and dangerous.

"Okay--" Bill said suddenly, stepping forward. "I'm going to step in now. We're all tired and worried and upset, and you lot have to travel back to Hogwarts tomorrow. This is not the time to discuss this. I think we should all head back to the Burrow and get some sleep."

Hermione glared for a second longer at Ron and Ginny. Then she shook her head, grabbed her jacket, and stormed out of the room, with Harry in close pursuit. Ginny felt her heart plunging into her stomach. Harry would hate her forever, now. Somehow, his cold disdain had been worse than Hermione's outburst.

"I'll just go tell Mum and Dad that we're leaving," Bill said. "I'll see you both in the lobby."

For a moment, Ron and Ginny just stood silently together, listening to the minutes tick loudly by on the clock.

"Ron," Ginny said, unable to to stay quiet any longer. "Thank you. You didn't have to say those things. I know how angry you must be--"

"No, you don't," Ron said.

Ginny's heart sank a little. "I'm… I'm sorry. You don't need to tell me how horrible I am, or how disgusting it was to… anyway, I'm sorry."

Ron nodded. "I know you are."

"You know…" she began, hesitantly, "that whole thing with Draco--"

"Don't," Ron said, holding a hand up to stop her. "It's a lot easier for me to be understanding if I'm not thinking about what exactly it is that I'm understanding."

"Okay," Ginny nodded. "You didn't have to defend me, you know."

"Yes, I did." Ron said simply. He then picked up his and Ginny's jackets from where they'd been dropped on the floor, and held Ginny's out to her. "Don't forget your coat, it's cold outside."

Ginny smiled slightly despite herself. She had never loved Ron as much as she did in that moment.

_"Draco, I'm late for Charms," Ginny giggled, half-heartedly pulling away from him._

_"And I'm late for Potions. So what?" He caught her hands and pinned them to the wall above her. He covered her mouth with his and waited for her to stop resisting. Slowly, she relaxed into his kiss. Her arms went limp, and he released them, allowing her to wrap them around his neck._

'You shouldn't be here,' _said a nasty voice inside Draco's head. That nagging voice of disapproval always sounded like his father's to Draco. Draco closed his eyes and tried to shut the voice out. _

'You've learned what needed to from her. Why are you still seeing her?'

_Why __**was**__ he still seeing her? He hadn't planned to. He'd decided last night that he would avoid her until the holidays, now that he'd got what he needed. _

_And then he'd run in to Potter, and his gang of wannabe heroes. They'd been practicing non-verbal spells of some kind; laughing and joking. He'd turned the corner, and run smack into Potter, Granger and Weasley. _

"What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" _Granger had said, disdain and disgust dripping from every word. Weasley had pulled out his wand, mentioning something about practicing their transfiguration spells, and "let's see if he makes as good a ferret as he did in Fourth year."_

_And then Potter and stepped in._

"Leave him, guys. He's not worth it. Come on, we'll practice someplace else."

_Draco shook his head, pulling away from Ginny slightly. _

_"Draco?" she inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?"_

_"I… It's nothing," he said, and turned away from her. _

_She stepped around him and ducked her head to look into his eyes. "Well, you don't have a 'nothing' face, you have a 'something' face. What's wrong?"_

_"No, it's nothing, really. Don't worry about it."_

_She wasn't buying it. She stared at him hard, her soft brown eyes narrowed in suspicion._

_"Is… is there anything I can do?" she asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from his eyes. A shiver ran down Draco's spine as he gazed down at her._

_He shook his head, ignoring the disapproving voice of his father that echoed in his head, and pulled her back into his arms, crushing her mouth with his. _

_Ginny pushed on his chest, breaking off their kiss and gasping. "Draco? Draco, what—"_

_"Don't," Draco said, kissing her again. "Don't say anything. Just kiss me."_

It was cold. All sound was muffled and distant, as though coming to Draco from across an arctic wasteland. He tried to move, tried to open his eyes, but it was as though he were made of stone.

"I don't care about bloody professionalism, Lucius," came his mother's voice, biting and cold. "I don't want her anywhere near my son!"

"The boy will be fine," came his father's voice, as brittle as his mother's. "She did nothing different to him than she did to the Potter boy. He's just weak…"

"He most certainly is not," said his mother coldly. Was it her voice that was frozen, or himself? "Don't you dare blame this on Draco."

Draco tried to call out to her, but he couldn't move.

"Narcissa, you're hysterical. Get control over yourself."

There was a brief silence before Draco's father spoke again.

"I am going back to the drawing room. You would do well to get control of your emotions before returning."

The was the sound of footsteps, and then the opening and closing of a door. And then silence.

Draco tried desperately to move. He thought he could feel a tingling in his hands, but that was all. It was as though he were made of marble. He waited, trying to breathe through the cold, trying move his hands or feet, or at least open his eyes.

What had happened? What exactly had Sheridan done to him? His father said that she'd only done the same as she did to Potter. But Potter didn't scream or pass out. It didn't look as though it had hurt him at all. Was Draco just weak, like his father said?

Slowly, the tingling became stronger, until it was sharp and painful.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" came a voice, and if Draco could move, he would have started. With immense effort, he wrenched his eyes open, looking up into his mother's face.

"What happened?" he croaked. "What did she do to me?"

"She Read you," his mother replied. "She's done it to a few other Death Eaters. It's… it's very painful."

"She did it to you?"

She hesitated a moment, and then nodded.

"And… what about Potter?" Draco asked, feeling a sharp sting of humiliation.

"Yes, she Read him too."

"But… why didn't he… you know, react… this way?" Draco asked, with some trepidation. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

She stayed silent a moment.

"Listen to me, Draco. You are not weak. On the contrary, you felt so much pain at her Intrusion because you are so much stronger than the Potter boy. Potter wears his heart on his sleeve; it doesn't take a Fae to see what he's feeling. You, however…" She gazed at him with admiration. "You guard your thoughts and feelings very carefully. She had to break in past your barriers to get to you."

Draco stayed silent, thinking over what his mother had said. It relieved him to think that it was not weakness that caused him so much pain. But he cringed when he thought of the other Death Eaters, and of Lord Voldemort. Would he think Draco weak?

"Don't worry, my love," his mother said, as if she could sense what he was thinking. "The Dark Lord knows the methods of the Sidhe. He does not think you weak."

Draco said nothing, but felt as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the thawing pain that was stabbing through his entire body. Slowly, he began to feel the pressure of fingers against his wrist.

"So," his mother said, breaking the silence. "Tell me about the Weasley girl…"

Draco opened his eyes and looked up at his mother. "I—what do you mean?"

"You… you like her quite a bit, don't you?" Her voice sounded hesitant.

Draco tried to pull away from his mother's grip, but he still couldn't move, and the attempt sent a sharp wave of pain through him. "Don't be daft," he said, cringing at the pain. "She was just a tool."

She nodded in a very 'knowing' way, and Draco gritted his teeth. "Yes," she said. "Yes, of course she was. Just a tool…"

"Well, she was," Draco said shortly.

There was a short silence, and the pain began to subside a little

"Draco… you know can't lie to me."

Draco rolled his eyes and tried once more to pull away from her, this time succeeding in at least moving his arm slightly.

"I thought you said I was good at hiding my emotions."

His mother smiled gently, looking almost amused. "You are. _Very_ good, actually. But I have a power that you know nothing about…" she said with a cryptic smile.

"Oh? What's that?"

"I'm your mother."

Draco tried to glare at her, but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling into grin.

"Look, it really is nothing, mother. Just a glitch. I'm fine now."

She nodded briefly and looked away.

"You don't believe me," Draco said. "You think I care about her."

His mother stayed silent a moment, thinking. "I think that... sometimes, you hide your emotions so well, that not even you can find them. Love is… complicated. It can change you, and make you forget about loyalties."

Draco clenched his teeth and shook his head. "_Love _ has nothing to do with it. She's a blood-traitor. She and her whole family are a bunch of blood-traitors. Nothing could make me forget that."

"Perhaps," she said, smoothing a strand of hair back from his forehead.

She said nothing more after that, focusing instead on easing the thawing pain. But Draco felt certain that she remained unconvinced. Truthfully, he didn't feel completely convinced himself.

Hermione was still fuming when she and the others arrived back at the Burrow. She walked right past Ginny towards the staircase, bumping into Ron on her way. She looked back at him, perhaps searching for some enouragement, some sign of reconciliation, but he was avoiding her gaze.

"Come on, Gin," he said. "I'll make some tea." He walked over to Ginny and guided her, with his arm around her shoulders, into the kitchen and out of sight.

Hermione bit her lip to keep it from trembling, and stormed up the stairs and into the room she shared with Ginny, slamming the door behind her. She flopped down on the bed and opened her Library Network brochure, though she wasn't really seeing the words.

Ron's words were still echoing in her head.

_"That's what family does! Maybe that's something you can't understand..."_

The tears that Hermione had been fighting against since their fight in the hospital tea room flowed freely now. Ron would never know how deeply those words had cut her. Was he right? Should she just let it go, and forgive Ginny? But how could she? Ginny had not only put her own loved ones at risk, but she had put Hermione's parents in peril, and gotten her mother seriously injured. And all of this for _Malfoy_, of all people.

Ron was right. Hermione didn't understand. She had no extended family to speak of, and she had never been very close to her parents, always preferring to spend her holidays with Harry, and Ron, and his family. Hermione had always felt a little jealous of what Ron had at home, though she'd never admit it.

Quite suddenly, there was a tapping at the door, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat.

"What is it, Ron?" she called, wiping her cheeks dry.

"Hermione?" came Harry's muffled voice.

Hermione felt her heart sink a little with disappointment. She sat up on the bed and smoothed her hair back a little, before calling out for Harry to enter.

"Hey," Harry said, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," Hermione answered. She tried to put on a cheerful face. "How are you?"

Harry came and sat next to her. "Probably better than you right now. You okay?"

Hermione started to nod, but somehow she couldn't force herself to lie to Harry.

"No."

"He shouldn't have said those things," Harry said, and put his arm around her shoulders.

Hermione's heart sped up a bit, but she was too preoccupied to really notice.

"No... Ron was right. I-- I don't understand," she said, feeling tears prickling at the corners of her eyes once more. "I don't understand how he can just let it all go. What she did, it was..." Tears splashed down her cheeks.

"Unforgiveable," Harry said. "I wouldn't let it go, if it were me. What she did was totally disgusting."

Hermione nodded, feeling the knots her in back loosen a little. Hearing her own feelings from Harry somehow made them feel justified. She took a deep, wavering breath, trying to get her emotions under control.

"I'm sorry, Harry. You shouldn't have to... to choose sides."

Harry tightened his grip around her shoulders and raised a hand to her cheeks, drying them with his thumb. A shiver ran down her spine, and she was suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating.

"I'd choose your side any day, Hermione." He brushed a stray strand of her bushy hair out of her eyes, letting his fingers linger on her jaw.

Hermione tried desperately to slow her breathing, to no avail.

"Harry, I... well, I mean... Ron--"

"Shh," Harry said, shifting closer to her. "Don't worry. I--"

But he was interrupted as the door opened abruptly, revealing Ron standing in the doorway.

Hermione pulled away from Harry and stood up, feeling her cheeks burning with guilt and humiliation.

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry, and back to Hermione.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No!" Hermione said, a little too loudly. "No, not at all. We-- we were just--"

But Hermione was spared from having to come up with a story for what she and Harry were just doing. At that moment, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon flew into the room, both carrying large envelopes. This in itself was not very surprising, as both Ron and Harry were expecting letters, Ron from Neville, and Harry from a few members of the DA.

However, the second Pigwidgeon entered the room, he begin hooting loudly and obnoxiously, while flying in circles. Harry stood up gasping, and backed away toward the wall.

Hedwig, only a moment behind Pig, reared in mid-air, letting out an ear-splitting screech.

She flew straight at Harry, claws bared. This was not the affectionate greeting she usually treated Harry to, nor was it a playful attempt to get his attention. Hedwig was attacking Harry, and she was not holding back.

"Get OFF, you devil!" Harry yelled. He ducked down, trying to avoid her claws.

"Hedwig!" Hermione screamed. "What's _wrong_ with you? It's Harry, you stupid bird! Get off him!"

Hedwig screamed and dove once more at Harry, and he dodged her attack only just in time. Swearing, he grabbed a small, heavy paperweight from Hermione's bedside table and aimed it at Hedwig.

"Harry, no, you'll kill her!"

Harry paid Hermione no heed, but chucked the paperweight at Hedwig with all his strength.

The paperweight collided with Hedwig, sending her straight into the opposite wall.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, running to where Hedwig had fallen. She gingerly picked up the unconsious bird and examined her for any obvious wounds. She couldn't see anything, so all the damage must be internal.

Behind her, Harry was picking up a book from the table and aiming it at Pig.

"Harry, stop!" Ron shouted.

Swearing, Harry threw the book, missing Pig by mere inches. Pig shrieked and fled out the window.

Hermione grabbed her wand and waved it over Hedwig, muttering an animal-healing charm under her breath.

Hedwig stirred and shook, opening her eyes and trying to shake out of her grip. She was still too weak though, and she winced and held still. Hermione muttered the charm again, and this time she could feel the bird's muscles gain strength. She still looked a little weak, but she was at least out of any immediate danger. She'd have to go straight to Madame Pomfrey when they returned to Hogwarts tomorrow though.

Hedwig shook again, this time managing to free herself of Hermione's grip. She then took one look at Harry, let out another piercing shriek, and took off out the window.

Hermione raced to the window, watching her go. She then turned to look at Harry, who's eyes were burning with... anger? It would make sense for Harry to be shaken after such a bizarre and unprovoked attack from his childhood friend. But it did not account for the fiery look of pure hatred that was so plain on Harry's face.

"Harry?" she questioned. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry turned away and made for the door. "I'm fine," he muttered, and stormed out the door.

Hermione glanced at Ron, who looked just as bewildered as she felt.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Has that ever happened before?"

Ron shook his head. "Not that I know of. Weird..."

Hermione turned around, scanning the sky for Hedwig, but she had disappeared.

Citations:

"I have brought he who you most desire," she said. Then, after a moment, added, "sorry, 'whom'." –_Buffy_

"I don't need to say 'oh'," she said. "I got it before." –_Buffy_

"Well, you don't have a 'nothing' face, you have a 'something' face." –_Buffy_


End file.
